


The Hounds of Baskerville

by The_Sassiest_Trixster



Series: Living with a Demon [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel John Watson, BAMF Greg Lestrade, BAMF John, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, BAMF Sherlock, Demon Mycroft Holmes, Demon Sherlock Holmes, Kitsune Greg Lestrade, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sassiest_Trixster/pseuds/The_Sassiest_Trixster
Summary: A few months after the Three Garridebs case, in John’s flat, John was sitting in his chair, reading a book while Rosie sat at his feet, playing with her toys.  As they sat in silence, the front door suddenly burst open, startling John and Rosie to look over at Sherlock, who was dressed in black trousers and a white dress shirt, covered in blood (far too much to be his own).“Well that was tedious” Sherlock grumbled as he looked over at John, whose eyes were wide in shock, and Rosie, whose head was tilted in interest.“What the hell Sherlock?!  Did you get on the Tube like that?!” John exclaimed.“None of the cabs would take me” Sherlock replied grumpily before he headed off to the master bedroom to change and clean up.  After he left, John looked down at Rosie, who was looking up at him with bright blue eyes.“I don’t understand your father sometimes” he muttered before he went back to reading his book.  Rosie made a noise of agreement before she went back to playing with her toys.





	1. Henry Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Transcript used in this story found here: https://arianedevere.dreamwidth.org/19531.html

A few months after the Three Garridebs case, in John’s flat, John was sitting in his chair, reading a book while Rosie sat at his feet, playing with her toys.  As they sat in silence, the front door suddenly burst open, startling John and Rosie to look over at Sherlock, who was dressed in black trousers and a white dress shirt, covered in blood (far too much to be his own).

            “Well that was tedious” Sherlock grumbled as he looked over at John, whose eyes were wide in shock, and Rosie, whose head was tilted in interest.

            “What the hell Sherlock?!  Did you get on the Tube like that?!” John exclaimed.

            “None of the cabs would take me” Sherlock replied grumpily before he headed off to the master bedroom to change and clean up.  After he left, John looked down at Rosie, who was looking up at him with bright blue eyes.

            “I don’t understand your father sometimes” he muttered before he went back to reading his book.  Rosie made a noise of agreement before she went back to playing with her toys. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After Sherlock had gotten cleaned up and changed into a clean shirt and trousers with one of his blue dressing gowns over the top, he walked back out into the living room and over to where John and Rosie were.

            “Nothing?” he asked as he sat down next to Rosie and began to dance her little otter toy in front of her, making her giggle with glee.

            “Military coup in Uganda” John replied.  Sherlock huffed before he flopped onto his back, Rosie squealing for glee as she crawled over to him and climbed onto him.  Sherlock smiled as he picked up his daughter and lifted her into the air, just like an airplane.

            “Flying!” Rosie exclaimed.

            “Yes darling, you are flying” Sherlock replied, a fond smile on his face.  John looked up from his book at his husband and daughter, a smile on his face as well.

            “Can’t believe a minute ago you were covered in blood” he murmured.  Sherlock looked over at him and smirked before he turned his attention back to his daughter.  He continued to press her into the air, making her squeal in delight, before he looked back at John.

            “Nothing of importance?” he asked.  John shook his head.

            “Unfortunately not” he replied.  Sherlock groaned before he sat up, still holding Rosie above his head before he placed her back down, settling her into his lap.

            “I need a case!” he exclaimed.  John let out a huff as he looked over at his husband.

            “Sherlock, you just solved one.  By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!” he exclaimed.  Sherlock let out a huff as he pushed himself to his feet, pacing around the room as he carried Rosie in his arms.

            “That was this morning!” he grumbled before he whirled on the angel, who was looking calmly at him.

            “When’s the next one?” he asked.  John raised an eyebrow.

            “Nothing on the website?” he replied.  Sherlock huffed as he summoned a laptop and opened it, handing it over to John who began to read through the messages.

            _“Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I can’t find Bluebell anywhere.  Please, please, please can you help?”_ he read aloud before he looked up at Sherlock.

            “Bluebell?” he asked.  Sherlock let out a huff.

            “A rabbit, John” he explained.  Rosie let out a little squeal at the word “rabbit” and Sherlock chuckled as he tickled her side.

            “That’s right darling, rabbit” he cooed before he looked back at John.

            “Is there more?” he asked.  John hummed as he went back to reading the message.

            _“Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous…“like a fairy”.  Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone!  Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry…”_ he continued before looking up at Sherlock.

            “Sound interesting enough?” he asked.  Sherlock huffed.

            “Unfortunately not” he replied just as the doorbell rang.  Sherlock and John looked at one another before they looked over at the door.

            “Single ring” John mused.

            “Maximum pressure just under the half second” Sherlock continued.  Rosie then threw her hands into the air, knowing what her fathers were talking about.

            “Client!” she exclaimed.  John and Sherlock laughed before Sherlock handed her over to John, who raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Um?” he started.  Sherlock motioned to what he was wearing.

            “Can’t greet a client in this now can I?” he asked.  John huffed and shook his head as he motioned for Sherlock to go and change.  Once he changed, he walked over to the door and opened it, allowing their client to enter into their home.  He then motioned for the man to sit in the chair specifically for client before he walked back over to his chair and sat down.  John and Sherlock studied the man quietly while the man stared back, mainly focusing on Rosie, who smiled brightly at the man.  After a moment, Sherlock sighed.

            “Your name, sir?” he asked.

            “Henry Knight” the man answered.  John hummed.

            “And why have you come to us?” he asked.

            “Because I believe you can help me figure out what killed my father” Henry answered.  Sherlock and John hummed before Sherlock sighed again.

            “What did you see?” he asked, remembering the documentary that he saw Henry on.

            “I’m sorry?” Henry replied.  Sherlock rolled his eyes while John looked over at him and narrowed his eyes.  He then looked back at Henry, who pulled out a napkin and wiped his nose on it.

            “In your own time” he soothed. 

            “But quite quickly” Sherlock snipped.  Henry nodded and lowered the napkin before he looked at Sherlock.

            “Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?” he asked.  Sherlock shook his head.

            “No” he replied.  Henry smiled slightly.

            “It’s an amazing place.  It’s like nowhere else.  It’s sort of…bleak but beautiful” he explained.  Sherlock hummed.

            “Mmm, not interested.  Moving on” he ordered.  John let out a soft groan while Henry just sighed.

            “We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me.  Every evening we’d go out onto the moor” he explained.

            “Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?” Sherlock asked, interrupting the man.  John looked over at him and narrowed his eyes.

            “Sherlock…” he warned.  Sherlock looked back at him and nodded before both men turned back to Henry.

            “There’s a place – it’s…it’s a sort of local landmark called Dewer’s Hollow” Henry explained.

            “And?” John asked, leaning back in his chair.

            “That’s an ancient name for the Devil” Henry explained.

            “So?” Sherlock asked, steepling his fingers.

            “Did you see the Devil that night?” John continued.  Henry nodded as his face became haunted with memories.

            “Yes.  It was huge.  Coal-black fur, with red eyes.  It got him, tore at him, tore him apart” he explained before he let out a shuddery breath.

            “I can’t remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor.  My dad’s body was never found” he continued.  John hummed before he glanced over at Sherlock.

            “Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog?  Wolf?” he asked.  Sherlock hummed.

            “Or a genetic experiment” he replied before he looked away, biting back a smile.  Henry looked at him and frowned.

            “Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?” he exclaimed.  Sherlock looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

            “Why, are you joking?” he replied.

            “My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there.  People used to laugh at him.  At least the TV people took me seriously” Henry grumbled.

            “And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism” Sherlock stated.  John huffed before he looked at Henry with gentle eyes.

            “Henry, whatever _did_ happen to your father, it was twenty years ago.  Why come to us now?” he asked.  Henry didn’t answer him as he looked over at Sherlock.

            “I’m not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny” he snapped before he stood up and walked over towards the front door.

            “Because of what happened last night” Sherlock called out.  John looked over at him and raised an eyebrow while Rosie looked at him and tilted her head.

            “Why, what happened last night?” he asked as Henry turned back towards them.

            “How…how do you know?” he asked.  Sherlock smirked.

            “I didn’t know; I noticed” he replied as he stood up.  John let out a stream of air before he leaned down so that his mouth was by Rosie’s ear.

            “Watch Daddy work sweetheart” he whispered.  Rosie nodded and turned to watch Sherlock with bright blue eyes.

            “You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning.  You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee.  The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you.  Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind.  You are, however, _extremely_ anxious to have your first cigarette of the day.  Please, Mr. Knight, do have a smoke.  However, you must do it by the window” Sherlock stated.  John pursed his lips.

            “Sherlock…” he started.

            “How on earth did you notice all that?!” Henry exclaimed as he walked over to the window, fishing into his coat pocket.

            “Punched-out holes where your ticket’s been checked…” Sherlock answered as he looked over at two small round white pieces of paper stuck to Henry’s coat.

            “Sherlock…” John started again.  Sherlock looked over at him, giving him heterochromic puppy-dog eyes.

            “Please John” he begged.  John rolled his eyes as he stood up.

            “You’re just showing off” he stated as he walked over to his husband and handed him Rosie, who immediately clung to Sherlock like a koala.

            “Of _course_.  I _am_ a show-off.  That’s what we _do_ ” he explained before he turned towards Henry.

            “The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn’t take milk.  There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve.  Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage.  Probably a sandwich” he continued.  Henry let out a half-sob, over-awed.

            “How did you know it was disappointing?” he asked.  Sherlock smirked.

            “Is there any other type of breakfast on a train?  The girl – female handwriting’s quite distinctive.  Wrote her phone number down on the napkin.  I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle.  Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers.  You’ve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number.  Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose.  Maybe you’re not that into her after all.  Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your _shaking_ fingers.  I know the signs” he stated before he looked over at John, who was staring back at him with his hands on his hips.

            “Would you like a go, dear?” he asked.  John huffed before he looked over at Henry and narrowed his eyes, studying him.  Meanwhile, Sherlock turned Rosie in his arms so that she was watching John while he leaned his head down so that his mouth was Rosie’s ear.

            “Watch your Papa deduce this man, darling” he whispered.  Rosie nodded and fixed her eyes on John, who was still studying Henry before clearing his throat.

            “No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here” he declared before he looked down at his watch.

            “It’s just after nine fifteen.  You’re desperate.  The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m.  You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night.  Are we wrong?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Henry.  Henry looked between the two men before he blinked in shock.

            “No” he breathed before he chuckled.

            “You’re right.  You’re completely, exactly right.  Bloody hell, I heard you were quick” he murmured as he lit his cigarette and put the fag to his mouth, taking a drag.  Sherlock hummed as he bounced Rosie in his arms.

            “It’s our job” he replied.  Henry nodded as he blew a stream of smoke out of the window while John looked at him.

            “Now Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?” he asked.  Henry nodded.

            “Yes” he answered.  John hummed as Sherlock began to walk around the flat, Rosie’s head resting on his shoulder.

            “That must be a…quite a trauma.  Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this…to account for it?” he asked.  Henry let out another stream of smoke before he sighed.

            “That’s what Doctor Mortimer says” he explained.  John raised an eyebrow.

            “Who?” he asked.

            “His therapist” Sherlock answered.

            “My therapist” Henry answered, almost simultaneously. 

            “Obviously” Sherlock continued, looking over at John, who shot him a glare.

            “Louise Mortimer.  She’s the reason I came back to Dartmoor.  She thinks I have to face my demons” Henry continued, making Sherlock and John snicker softly at the word “demon”, very aware that Henry had no idea what kind of supernatural beings he was dealing with.

            “And what happened when you went back to Dewer’s Hollow last night, Henry?  You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you’re consulting a detective.  What did you see that changed everything?” Sherlock asked.

            “It’s a strange place, the Hollow” Henry murmured as he looked out the window, blowing out a stream of smoke.

            “Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid” he continued.  Sherlock huffed.

            “Yes, if I wanted poetry I’d read the books my husband reads to my daughter” he grumbled.  John shot him another look and even Rosie looked over her shoulder up at him, her face scrunched up in a pout.  Sherlock chuckled and nuzzled her cheek with his nose before he looked back at Henry.

            “What did you _see_?” he prodded.

            “Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart” Henry answered.  Sherlock hummed while John crossed his arms.

            “Man’s or a woman’s?” he asked.

            “Neither.  They were...” Henry started.

            “Is that it?  Nothing else.  Footprints.  Is that all?” Sherlock interrupted.  Henry looked away from the window at him, eyes wide.

            “Yes, but they were…” he started again.

            “No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins.  Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory.  Boring!  Goodbye, Mr. Knight” he stated, blatantly dismissing the man.

            “No, but what about the footprints?” Henry asked.

            “Oh, they’re probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing” Sherlock replied before he flicked his fingers at Henry, gesturing to the door.

            “Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me” he declared.  Henry blinked before he took his last drag and flicked the cigarette out the window, buttoning his jacket afterwards.  As he headed for the door, he stopped and turned to face Sherlock and John, who looked like they were about to have a domestic squabble.

            “Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!” he exclaimed.  John and Sherlock froze before both men turned towards him.

            “Say that again” he ordered. 

            “I found the footprints; they were…” Henry started when Sherlock shook his head.

            “No, no, no, your exact words.  Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them” he ordered.  Henry thought for a moment before he sighed.

            “Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic…hound” he repeated.  Sherlock hummed before he grinned.

            “I’ll take the case” he declared.  John looked over at him, shocked.

            “Sorry, what?” he exclaimed.  Sherlock didn’t respond as he began to walk around the flat, swaying in his step as he rocked Rosie in his arms.

            “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.  It’s very promising” he stated.  John shook his head.

            “No-no-no, sorry, _what_?  A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they’re very promising?” he snapped.  Sherlock stopped walking and turned towards his husband.

            “It’s _nothing_ to do with footprints.  As ever, John, you weren’t listening.  Baskerville: ever heard of it?” he asked.  John narrowed his eyes.

            “I was listening, Sherlock. And yes, vaguely.  It’s all hush-hush” he replied.

            “Sounds like a good place to start” Sherlock stated.  Henry, by the door, smiled.

            “Ah!  You’ll come down, then?” he asked.  Sherlock looked over at him and shook his head.

            “No, I can’t leave London at the moment.  Far too busy.  Don’t worry – putting my best man onto it” he replied as he looked over at John, whose eyes widened.

            “Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself” Sherlock continued.

            “Excuse me?!  What are you talking about, busy?!  You don’t have a case!  A minute ago you were complaining…” John started.

            “Bluebell, John!  I’ve got Bluebell!  The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!” Sherlock interrupted before he looked over at Henry.

            “NATO’s in uproar” he explained.  Putting on a regretful face, Sherlock shook his head while John just pinched the bridge of his nose.

            “God Sherlock…” he murmured before he took a deep breath and looked over at the demon.

            “Fine” he growled.  Sherlock brightened.

            “Excellent” he declared before looking over at Henry.

            “You go on ahead, Henry.  We’ll follow later” he stated.  Henry’s eyes widened as did John’s.

            “Er, sorry, so you _are_ coming?” Henry asked as he headed towards the door.  Sherlock smiled, revealing his fangs.

            “Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” he exclaimed.  Henry nodded and quickly headed out of the door, shutting it behind him.  Once he was gone, Sherlock looked over at John, who was looking back at him with murder in his eyes.

            “Oh come now John, you didn’t think I would let you go on a case like this on your own, did you?” he asked.  John narrowed his eyes before he sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat.

            “You’re gonna be the death of me, Sherlock” he murmured, lowering his head.  Sherlock smirked before he walked over to him and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the angel’s hair.

            “You as well, love” he murmured.  He then pulled back as John lifted his head and looked into his eyes, smiling softly.

            “So, when do we leave?” he asked.  Sherlock smiled brightly.

            “At once!” he declared as he spun Rosie in his arms and lifted her into the sky, laughing as she let out a squeal of glee.  As John watched them, a fond smile spread over his face.  Sherlock and Rosie would really be the death of him.


	2. To Dartmoor

An hour or so later, Sherlock was carrying two holdalls while John held a smaller one in one hand while holding Rosie in another.  As Sherlock headed towards the cab, both he and John could hear the next door neighbors going at it.

            “…cruise together.  You had _no_ intention of taking me on it…” the woman screeched as she threw something at the closed door.  As it bounced heavily off the glass, Rosie flinched in John’s arms.  John pressed a calming kiss to her hair before he looked over at Sherlock and smirked.

            “Sounds like Mrs. Waterson finally got to the wife in Doncaster” he mused.  Sherlock hummed, a small smile on his face.

            “Mmm.  Wait ’til she finds out about the one in Islamabad” he replied.  John sniggered as Sherlock walked over to the taxi, placing down a bag to open the door.  John climbed in, handing Sherlock his bag as he did so.  Sherlock quickly placed the three bags in the trunk of the cab before slamming it shut and hoping inside the cab.

            “Paddington Station, please” he instructed to the driver before he got comfortable next to John.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After a few hours of driving, John, Sherlock, and Rosie arrived in Dartmoor.  The cab then dropped the Watson-Holmes family at a rental car place, allowing John and Sherlock to rent a large black Land Rover jeep with a car seat so that they could place Rosie in the back seat.  After they got their rental car and strapped Rosie, Sherlock got into the driver’s side while John took the passenger’s side, soon taking off to the moors.  Sometime later, away from the road, Sherlock stood dramatic skylined on a large stone outcrop with Rosie in his arms while John stood at the foot of the outcrop, a map in his hands.

            “There’s Baskerville” he stated, pointing ahead of himself at a large array of buildings in the distance.  He then turned and pointed behind him, making Sherlock turn as well.

            “That’s Grimpen Village” he continued.  He then turned once more and looked ahead of them, checking the map for the name of the heavily wooded area to the left of the Baskerville complex.

            “So that must be…yeah, it’s Dewer’s Hollow” he declared.  Sherlock hummed as he pointed to an area in between the complex and the Hollow.

            “What’s that?” he asked.  John looked up at him.

            “Hmm?” he replied before he waved his hand, summoning a pair of binoculars to look at the fencing and warning signs more closely.

            “Minefield?  Technically Baskerville’s an army base, so I guess they’ve always been keen to keep people out” he stated. 

            “Clearly” Sherlock replied.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After their little stop, Sherlock drove into Grimpen Village and pulled into the car park of the Cross Keys inn.  They got out of the car, taking their bags with them as they walked towards the entrance of the pub, where a young man, who was apparently a tour guide, was talking to a group of tourists.

            “...three times a day, tell your friends. Tell _anyone_!” the young man exclaimed.  Sherlock and John looked at one another before they walked past the young man and noticed that he was standing next to a large sign on which was painted a black image of a wolf-like creature with the words “BEWARE THE HOUND!!” above it.

            “Don’t be strangers, and remember…stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!” the young man continued.  Sherlock just huffed as he pulled his coat tighter around him before popping his collar as they continued towards the pub.

            “Seriously Sherlock?” John asked, giving his husband a look.  Sherlock smirked.

            “I’m cold” he replied.  John just let out a sigh and shook his head as they continued towards the pub.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile in a psychiatrist’s office, Henry was sitting half-reclined in a comfy armchair while a young woman was sitting across from him, notebook and pen in hand.

            “That part doesn’t change” he whispered.

            “What _does_?” the doctor, Louise Mortimer, asked.  Henry ran a hand over his face and sighed.

            “Oh, there’s something else.  It-it’s a word” he replied.  Sighing heavily in concentration, he closed his eyes again, seeing the word as if it was stitched or knitted into some fabric.

            “Liberty” he stated, opening his eyes.

            “Liberty?” Dr. Mortimer asked.

            “There’s another word” Henry replied, shutting his eyes and concentrating once more.

            “In. I-N. “Liberty In”” he declared, opening his eyes once more before looking over at Dr. Mortimer.

            “What do you think it means?” he asked.  Dr. Mortimer shook her head in reply; she had no idea.  Henry just sighed in frustration; he was getting nowhere.

 

~*~*~*~*~

Back in Grimpen, Sherlock and Rosie were prowling around in the interior of the pub while John walked over to the bar, checking in.  After he had checked in, the manager and barman, Gary, handed him a pair of keys.

            “Eh, sorry we couldn’t do a double room for you boys” he stated.  John smiled and shook his head.

            “That’s fine.  There is a way to get a crib in the room though, correct?” he asked.  Gary nodded.

            “Of course.  We have a spare crib that in good condition that we can definitely place in your room.  I’ll go check on it now, if you would like” he replied.  John nodded.

            “Thank you” he replied.  While he went to go check on the crib, John looked down and noticed a pile of receipts and invoices that had been punched onto a spike on the bar.  As he stared at the pile, he frowned when he saw one labelled “Undershaw Meat Supplies”.  He quickly reached out and ripped it off the spike, placing it in his pocket as Gary came back, a smile on his face.

            “Yeah, the crib is in good condition.  We can clean it off, change the mattress, and wash the sheets for you before we put in your room.  Sound good?” he asked.  John nodded.

            “Sounds excellent” he replied before he smiled slightly.

            “I couldn’t help noticing on the map of the moor: a skull and crossbones” he stated.  Gary nodded.

            “Oh that, aye” he replied.  John’s eyes widened.

            “Pirates?” he asked.  Gary chuckled and shook his head.

            “Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it” he explained.  John nodded slowly in understanding.

            “I see” he replied.

            “It’s not what you think.  It’s the Baskerville testing site.  It’s been going for eighty-odd years.  I’m not sure anyone really knows what’s there anymore” Gary stated.  Nearby, Sherlock was still prowling around, murmuring soft words to Rosie before finding something of interest at one of the tables.

            “Explosives?” John asked, glancing over at his husband before looking at Gary.

            “Oh, not just explosives.  Break into that place and – if you’re _lucky_ – you just get blown up, so they say…in case you’re planning on a nice wee stroll” Gary replied.  Meanwhile, Sherlock lost interest in the table and began prowling again, Rosie making little comments to him as they continued walking around.

            “Ta.  I’ll remember” John stated.  Gary nodded.

            “Aye.  No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!” he exclaimed before he chuckled as he came out from behind the bar, presumably to clear some glasses.

            “Did you see that show, that documentary?” he asked.  John shook his head.

            “I didn’t, but my husband did” he replied. 

            “Aye.  God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell” Gary stated.  John raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

            “Ever seen it?  The hound?” he asked.  Gary looked back at him and shook his head.

            “Me?  No” he replied before he pointed out the door past Sherlock, where Fletcher was just outside the pub, talking on his phone.

            “Fletcher has.  He runs the walks – the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know?  He’s seen it” he explained.  John huffed.

            “That’s handy for trade” he mused.  Gary nodded before he turned to a man who was clearly the inn’s cook who had just arrived behind the bar.  Meanwhile Sherlock and Rosie turned and followed Fletcher as he walked away from the doorway.

            “I’m just saying we’ve been rushed off our feet, Billy” Gary stated to the man.

            “Yeah. Lots of monster-hunters.  Doesn’t take much these days.  One mention on Twitter and oomph” the cook, Billy, replied before he looked Gary in the eyes.

            “We’re out of WKD” he declared.  Gary nodded.

            “Alright” he replied as he walked back behind the bar.  While he was working, Billy turned to John.

            “What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don’t know how we sleep nights.  Do you, Gary?” he asked, looking over at Gary.  Gary stopped working and turned towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder, smiling affectionately.

            “Like a baby” he replied.  Billy scoffed.

            “That’s not true” he stated, looking back at John.

            “He’s a snorer” he explained.  Gary’s eyes widened.

            “Hey, wheesht!” he hissed, embarrassed.  John chuckled while Billy raised an eyebrow.

            “Is yours a snorer?” he asked.  John hummed, thinking about it.

            “He’s a soft one” he replied.  Billy nodded, pleased with the response.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Outside, Sherlock carried Rosie in one arm while swiping a half-drunk pint of beer from a nearby empty table and walked over towards Fletcher, noticing as he did so that Fletcher had a copy of the Racing Post newspaper in his trouser pocket.  The demon followed Fletcher as he walked over to another of the tables and was just finishing his phone call.

            “Yeah ... No.  All right?  Right.  Take care.  Bye” Fletcher bid, just as Sherlock appeared before him, Rosie in his arms.

            “Mind if I join you?” he asked.  Fletcher shrugged and motioned to the table.  Sherlock smirked as he placed the pint down and sat down on the other side of the table.

            “It’s not true, is it?  You haven’t actually seen this…hound thing” he asked, smiling in a friendly way while Rosie made herself look as innocent as a three-year-old could look.

            “You from the papers?” Fletcher asked, looking at Sherlock and Rosie suspiciously.

            “No, nothing like that.  Just curious.  _Have_ you seen it?” Sherlock asked.

            “Maybe” Fletcher replied.

            “Got any proof?” Sherlock questioned, raising an eyebrow.

            “Why would I tell you if I did? ’Scuse me” Fletcher replied, standing up to leave as John walked over with a cup of tea and cup of juice for Rosie.  He handed Rosie her cup of juice before taking his sip of tea.

            “I called Henry—” he started.

            “Bet’s off, John, sorry” Sherlock interrupted.  John raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Sorry?” he asked.

            “Bet?” Fletcher repeated.

            “My plan needs darkness” Sherlock stated, looking down at his watch as Rosie sipped at her juice.

            “Reckon we’ve got another half an hour of light…” he continued, looking up at the sky.

            “Wait, wait.  What bet?” Fletcher demanded.

            “Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn’t prove you’d seen the hound” Sherlock replied, looking over at his husband, who raised an eyebrow as he sipped his tea.  When Sherlock gave him a look, he immediately knew what was going on, so he looked up at Fletcher and smirked.

            “Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could” he explained.  Fletcher smiled and pointed at Sherlock.

            “Well, you’re gonna lose your money, mate” he declared.  Sherlock scoffed.

            “Yeah?” he asked. 

            “Yeah. I’ve seen it.  Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow.  It was foggy, mind – couldn’t make much out” Fletcher replied.

            “I see.  No witnesses, I suppose” Sherlock asked as he stroked Rosie’s curly blonde hair as she sipped on her juice.

            “No, but…” Fletcher started.

            “Never are” Sherlock interrupted.

            “Wait…” Fletcher started, quickly working on his phone before showing the demon a photo.

            “There” he declared.  Sherlock leaned forward and looked at the photo which showed a dark-furred four-legged something in the distance but, with no scale amongst the surrounding vegetation, it’s impossible to tell the size – or even the species – of the animal.  He snorted.

            “Is that it?  It’s not exactly proof, is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Fletcher.  Fletcher then showed the photo to John, who hummed.

            “Sorry, John.  I win” Sherlock declared, picking up the stolen beer, making to drink it but never actually let the liquid past his lips.

            “Wait, wait.  That’s not all.  People don’t like going up there, you know – to the Hollow.  Gives them a…bad sort of feeling” Fletcher explained.

            “Ooh!  Is it haunted?  Is that supposed to convince me?” Sherlock sneered before he lifted his glass again.

            “Nah, don’t be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there _is_ something out there – something from Baskerville, escaped” Fletcher answered.

            “A clone, a super-dog?” Sherlock sniggered.

            “Maybe.  God knows what they’ve been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn’t trust ’em as far as I could spit” Fletcher grumbled.

            “Is that the best you’ve got?” Sherlock asked, putting his pint down and nodding to the photograph.  Fletcher hesitated before he sighed and leaned down.

            “I had a mate once who worked for the MOD.  One weekend we were meant to go fishin’ but he never showed up – well, not ’til late.  When he did, he was white as a sheet.  I can see him now. “I’ve seen things today, Fletch,” he said, “that I never wanna see again. _Terrible_ things.”  He’d been sent to some secret Army place – Porton Down, maybe; maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else” he murmured, voice low.

            “In the labs there – the really _secret_ labs, he said he’d seen…terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs…” he started, reaching into his bag, pulling something out.

            “... dogs the size of horses” he finished, holding a concrete cast of a dog’s paw print – but the print was at least six inches long from the tip of the claws to the back of the pad.  Sherlock stared at in surprise while Rosie reached out to touch, instantly curious.  Sherlock immediately grabbed her tiny hand and pulled it back, making her whine while John chuckled.

            “Er, we did say fifty?” he asked, giving a knowing look to his husband.  As Fletcher smiled triumphantly, Sherlock pulled out his wallet and took out a fifty pound note, handing it over to the angel, who took it with a nod.

            “Ta” he replied with a teasing smile.  Sulkily, Sherlock got up and squeezed Rosie gently, making the little girl giggle.  John chuckled as he finished his tea before standing up, following after the demon and his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	3. Inside Baskerville

Later that day, Sherlock and John took the car that they had rented to Baskerville, Rosie sitting in the back in her car seat, playing with her stuffed animals that John had brought along to keep her occupied as they solved this case.  As they approached the complex, Sherlock observed that there were many military personnel guarding the place, walking the perimeter, etc.  After he made his observation, he drove up to the gate, where a military officer holding a rifle raised a hand.  As he stopped the jeep, the officer walked around to the driver’s window, which Sherlock had rolled down so that the officer could speak to them.

            “Pass please” the officer ordered.  Sherlock nodded and reached into his coat pocket, grabbing out a pass before handing it to the officer.

            “Thank you” the officer thanked, walking away with the pass.  Meanwhile, in front of the vehicle, another security man encouraged a sniffer dog to check the jeep, presumably for explosives.  While the dog was sniffing the jeep and the officer was running the pass, John looked over at Sherlock.

            “You’ve got ID for Baskerville.  How?” he asked softly so that the officers wouldn’t hear him.  Sherlock smiled.

            “It’s not specific to this place.  It’s Mycroft’s.  Access all areas.  I um…” he started before he cleared his throat.

            “…acquired it ages ago, just in case” he explained.  John let out a sigh and rolled his eyes as the security guard swiped Sherlock’s pass through a reader at the gate room. The screen showed a fairly small photograph of Mycroft and named the card holder as Mycroft Holmes, giving him Unlimited Access and showing his security status as ‘Secure (No Threat)’.

            “Sherlock…” he grumbled.  Sherlock looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

            “What?” he asked.  John looked back at him and huffed.

            “We’ll get caught” he exclaimed softly.  Sherlock smirked and shook his head.

            “No we won’t – well, not just yet” he replied.  John sighed deeply again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

            “We’ll be caught in five minutes.  _“Oh, hi, we just thought we’d come and have a wander round your top secret weapons base.”  “Really? Great! Come in – kettle’s just boiled.”_   That’s if we don’t get shot” he snapped, looking over at the demon, glaring.  Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes.

            “Oh John, like I would let someone shoot you or Rosie” he replied as the gates began to slide open as the security guard walked back over to the car.

            “Clear” the security dog handler declared.

            “Thank you very much, sir” the security guard stated as he handed Sherlock back Mycroft’s pass.  Sherlock nodded.

            “Thank you” he replied as he put the jeep in gear and eased the vehicle forward.

            “Straight through, sir” the security guard instructed.  Sherlock nodded while John let out a soft laugh.

            “Mycroft’s name _literally_ opens doors” he murmured.  Sherlock smirked.

            “I’ve told you: he _is_ the British government.  I reckon we’ve got about twenty minutes before they realize something’s wrong” he stated.  John hummed as Sherlock continued to drive to the main complex at Baskerville before parking the car and getting out.  John got out as well and opened the back seat door, unbuckling Rosie from her car seat before taking her in his arms and following after Sherlock as another soldier led them through barriers and towards an entrance to the main building.  As they walked, Sherlock looked around at all the military men patrolling the area, many of them armed.  Even the scientists in lab coats were being escorted.  As they approached the entrance, a military jeep pulled up and a young corporal got out.

            “What is it?  Are we in trouble?” he asked.  Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the man.

            _“Are we in trouble, sir”_ he sternly corrected.  The young corporal nodded.

            “Yes, sir, sorry, sir” he replied before he stepped in front of them, holding out his hands to prevent them getting nearer to the entrance.

            “You were expecting us?” Sherlock asked. 

            “Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes.  Corporal Lyons, security.  _Is_ there something wrong, sir?” the corporal, Lyons, replied.

            “Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not” Sherlock stated.  Lyons sighed.

            “It’s just we don’t get inspected here, you see, sir.  It just doesn’t happen” he explained.

            “Ever heard of a spot check?” John asked, making Lyons look over at the man as he shifted Rosie to one arm and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wallet.  He then showed the ID to Lyons, smirking.

            “Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers” he declared, putting as much authority into his voice as he could muster.  Lyon’s eyes widened and he quickly came to attention, saluting John.  John placed his small wallet back into his pocket before crisply saluting back, Rosie saluting as well, making Lyons chuckle softly before he cleared his throat and lowered his arm.

            “Sir.  Major Barrymore won’t be pleased, sir.  He’ll want to see you both” he stated.  John shook his head.

            “I’m afraid we won’t have time for that.  We’ll need the full tour right away.  Carry on” he ordered.  Lyon hesitated, making John growl.

            “That’s an _order_ , Corporal” he snapped, fire burning in his blue eyes.

            “Yes sir” Lyons replied, immediately spinning around and walking towards the entrance.  Sherlock looked down at his husband with wide eyes before he smirked, extremely proud of John for pulling rank to help them get into Baskerville.  As they followed after Lyons, who swiped his pass through a reader at the entrance, which was marked as _“_ AUTOMATIC SECURITY DOOR” _,_ before waiting for Sherlock to walk over and do the same with his own pass.  The message “ACCESS GRANTED” appeared on the reader, allowing Lyons to press a button to disengage a lock on the door.  Once the lock was disengaged, Sherlock checked his watch, a small smirk on his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, a long way from Baskerville, a message flashed up on a screen:

 

CCV1 • security authorization requested •

Holmes, Mycroft • priority ultra

processing CCV1 •

5555*0000*x1 //5894

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

While the security request was being processed, at Baskerville, the door swung open and Lyons led Sherlock and John inside, taking off his beret as he went.  As he led them towards the next security door, Sherlock and John began to speak quietly.

            “Nice touch, darling” Sherlock murmured.  John chuckled and shook his head.

            “Haven’t pulled rank in years” he replied.  Sherlock smirked.

            “Enjoy it?” he asked.  John smirked as well.

            “Oh yeah” he replied as Lyons reached the next security door, swiping his pass before stepping aside for Sherlock to do the same.  As Sherlock swiped his pass, another “ACCESS GRANTED” message appeared and another authorization request was sent out.  The doors then slid open, revealing an elevator on the other side.  Lyons then led them inside, Sherlock glancing over at the side panel.  The lift, now on the ground floor, only went downwards to five floors marked -1, -2, -3, -4 and B.  Lyons pressed the -1 button, causing the elevator doors to close before opening a few moments later, one floor down.  Lyons then led Sherlock and John out into a brightly lit and white tiled laboratory.  As they walk forward, various scientific staff dressed either in white coveralls including full breathing masks, or in lab coats and face masks walked around the lab.  To the right of the elevator, there were large cages and as Lyons led Sherlock and John past them, a monkey screamed and hurled itself at the bars towards them.  Rosie shrieked in fear and John quickly pulled her tight against him, murmuring soft and calming words while Sherlock looked at Lyons and raised an eyebrow.

            “How many animals do you keep down here?” he asked.

            “Lots, sir” Lyons replied.  At the far end of the lab, a scientist wearing coveralls and a breathing mask came out of another room, taking off his mask as another scientist walked across the lab with a beagle on a lead.

            “Any ever escape?” Sherlock continued.  Lyons chuckled while John continued to murmur gentle words to calm Rosie down.

            “They’d have to know how to use that lift, sir.  We’re not breeding them _that_ clever” Lyons stated.  Sherlock hummed.

            “Unless they have help” he muttered as the scientist that took off his mask walked over to them.

            “Ah, and you are?” the man asked.  Lyons looked a little apologetic as he looked at the man.

            “Sorry, Doctor Frankland. I’m just showing these gentlemen around” he explained.  The man, Doctor Frankland, looked over at John, Rosie, and Sherlock, smiling.

            “Ah, new faces, huh?  Nice.  Careful you don’t get stuck here, though.  I only came to fix a tap!” he teased before he headed towards the lift.  John chuckled politely as Rosie buried her face in his chest before turning to look at Lyons.

            “How far down does that lift go?” he asked.

            “Quite a way, sir” Lyons answered.  John hummed as he rubbed Rosie’s back.

            “Mmm-hmm.  And what’s down there?” he inquired.  Lyons smirked.

            “Well, we have to keep the bins _somewhere_ , sir.  This way please, gentlemen” he instructed, turning to lead John and Sherlock away.  As he led John away, Sherlock remained where he was and watched Frankland reach the elevator, raising an eyebrow when Frankland turned to gaze at him and John with interest.  He and Sherlock locked eyes for a moment before Sherlock walked a few paces backward before turning on his heels to follow after the corporal and his husband.

            “So what exactly is it that you do here?” John asked as Sherlock caught up with them.  Lyons frowned.

            “I thought you’d know, sir, this being an inspection” he stated.  John let out a little growl while Sherlock looked at the various scientists around the room, such as a couple looking at a rat in a glass cage, and another doing something to the leg of a monkey on a leash, which was sitting on a metal table.  Nearby, another scientist picked up what looked ominously like a glass container of serum in Sherlock’s eyes.

            “Well, I’m not an expert, am I?” John snapped, making Lyons flinch.

            “Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir” he replied timidly.  John hummed, nodding slowly.

            “But mostly weaponry?” he asked.  Lyons nodded.

            “Of one sort or another, yes” he replied as he swiped his card through the reader of a door at the side of the lab, before stepping aside for Sherlock to do the same.

            “Biological, chemical—?” John asked.

            “One war ends, another begins, sir.  New enemies to fight.  We have to be prepared” Lyons answered.  As the door released, Sherlock checked his watch, another small smirk on his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Once again, the security authorization message went out, the message changing slightly this time.

 

CCV1 • security authorization //5894

• query • query • query

CCV1 • 5555*0000*x1

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Lyons led Sherlock, John, and Rosie through the doors and into another lab where a monkey stood up on its back legs with one hand high in the air and shrieked before sitting down again on a high metal table.  A female scientist looked at the monkey before looking over at her male colleague.

            “Okay, Michael, let’s try Harlow Three next time” she instructed as she walked away from the table.

            “Doctor Stapleton” Lyons stated, approaching her. 

            “Stapleton” Sherlock murmured, making John glance up at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

            “Yes?” Dr. Stapleton asked before looking over at Sherlock and John.

            “Who’s this?” she asked.

            “Priority Ultra, ma’am.  Orders from on high.  An inspection” Lyons answered.

            “Really?” Dr. Stapleton asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “We’re to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton.  What’s your role at Baskerville?” Sherlock asked, staring at the woman, who looked at him and snorted with disbelieving laughter.  John groaned softly before he looked at Dr. Stapleton.

            “Accorded _every_ courtesy, isn’t that the idea?” he asked.

            “I’m not free to say.  Official secrets” Dr. Stapleton answered.  Sherlock smiled at her.

            “Oh, you most certainly _are_ free—” he started before his smile faded.

            “—and I suggest you remain that way” he finished, his voice ominous.  Dr. Stapleton looked at him for a moment before she hummed.

            “I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies.  I like to mix things up – genes, mostly; now and again actual fingers” she stated.  At the word “genes”, a lightbulb went off in Sherlock’s mind as he quickly reached into his pocket.

            “Stapleton.  I _knew_ I knew your name” he stated.  Dr. Stapleton scoffed.

            “I doubt it” she sneered.  Sherlock rolled his eyes.

            “People say there’s no such thing as coincidence.  What dull lives they must lead” he muttered as he held up his notebook to her on which he had written a single large word: “BLUEBELL”.  Dr. Stapleton stared at it in amazement while Sherlock watched her face closely.

            “Have you been talking to my daughter?” Dr. Stapleton demanded.

            “Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?” Sherlock asked as he put away his notebook.  John turned to look at him, eyes wide in shock.

            “The rabbit?” he asked, bewildered. 

            “Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive” Sherlock replied, looking at Dr. Stapleton, who stared back at him blankly.

            “The _rabbit_?” John repeated, making Rosie perk up at the word.

            “Babbit?” she asked, making Sherlock and John look at her before Sherlock smiled slightly and reached out, stroking her soft blonde hair.

            “Yes darling, rabbit” he replied, giving Dr. Stapleton a pointed look.

            “Clearly an inside job” he stated.

            “Oh, you reckon?” Dr. Stapleton sneered.

            “Why?  Because it glowed in the dark” Sherlock stated, loudly clicking the ‘k’ on the last word.

            “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.  Who are you?” Dr. Stapleton demanded.  Sherlock ignored her question as he looked down at his watch for the third time.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Out in the security system somewhere, the authorization request changed once again.

 

CCV1 • security authorization

• alert •• alert ••

potential level 5 security breach

5555*0000*x1 //5894

 

Someone who was working in the security detail looked at the screen before picking up the phone and putting the handset to their ear.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Back at Baskerville, Sherlock lowered his hand and turned to Lyons.

            “Well, I think we’ve seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much” he stated.  Lyons blinked in surprise.

            “That’s it?” he asked.  Sherlock nodded.

            “That’s it” he answered before he turned headed briskly towards the door, John and Rosie following behind with Lyons trailing after them.

            “It’s this way, isn’t it?” Sherlock asked.

            “Just a minute!” Dr. Stapleton called out as John caught up to Sherlock, keeping up with his husband’s fast pace while glaring up at him.

            “Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?” he hissed.  Sherlock ignored his question as he reached the door and swiped his card, waiting for Lyons to catch up to them and do the same with his own card. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

In Whitehall, telephones began to ring as a chain of calls relay the potential security breach and the message went out:

 

• URGENT • URGENT • URGENT •

refer Holmes, Mycroft

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, sitting in the Diogenes Club with a cup of coffee on the table beside him, Mycroft took out his phone when it trilled quietly.  Looking at the message on the screen, he rolled his eyes in exasperation before he sighed and started to text.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Back at Baskerville, Sherlock walked swiftly through the security doors and headed for the lift as his phone trilled a text alert. He took out his phone without stopping and read the message:

 

_What are you_ _doing?_

_M_

 

Sherlock laughed sarcastically and shook his head.

            “Twenty-three minutes.  Mycroft’s getting slow” he muttered as he reached the lift doors, swiping his card, Lyons doing the same.  The lift door then opened, revealing Dr. Frankland standing inside as if he had been waiting in there.  Trying to look nonchalant, he smiled at them.

            “Hello…again” he greeted.  Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man as he walked into the lift, the others following behind.  Very shortly afterwards, one floor up, the doors opened again to reveal a bearded man in a military uniform waiting for them.  He did not look happy.

            “Er, um, Major—” Lyons started.

            “This is bloody outrageous.  Why wasn’t I told?” the bearded man shouted, making Rosie flinch and bury herself deeper into John’s chest.  John pressed a calming hand to her back before he looked at the major, blue eyes flashing dangerously.

            “Major Barrymore is it?” he asked, stepping forward as he shifted Rosie to one arm so that he could holding out his hand to the other man.

            “Yes, well, good.  Very good” he stated, a sharpness in his tone before he looked over at Sherlock.

            “We’re very impressed, aren’t we, Mr. Holmes?” he asked.  Major Barrymore refused to shake John’s hand, making John huff as Sherlock’s phone trilled another text alert, making him reach into his pocket for it again.

            “Deeply; hugely” he replied as he walked past Major Barrymore, reading his text message.

 

_What’s going on_ _Sherlock?_

_M_

 

As Sherlock and John continued walking, Major Barrymore followed after them as Sherlock hurried towards the exit.

            “The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense—” Major Barrymore started.

            “I’m so sorry, Major” Sherlock interrupted.

            “Inspections?!” Major Barrymore shouted. 

            “New policy.  Can’t remain unmonitored forever.  Goodness knows _what_ you’d get up to” Sherlock explained, continuing to walk fast.  John clutched Rosie tightly to his chest as he kept up with Sherlock, who leaned over to him.

            “Keep walking” he hissed.  John nodded as he and Sherlock continued to keep walking fast when Lyons suddenly slammed an alarm button on the wall, causing alarms to start blaring as red lights began to flash.  The automatic doors suddenly locked, making Sherlock, John, and Rosie stop.

            “ID unauthorized, sir” Lyons stated.  Major Barrymore turned to look at him and frowned.

            “What?” he demanded.

            “I’ve just had the call” Lyons replied.  Major Barrymore raised an eyebrow before he turned to Sherlock and John.

            “Is that right?” he asked before narrowing his eyes.

            “Who are you?” he demanded.  John sighed as he clutched Rosie to his chest, trying to protect her from the other officers, even though he knew they wouldn’t harm her.

            “Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mistake” he started when Major Barrymore held out his hand for Sherlock’s ID card, which the demon handed over.  He looked down at the card before he looked at Sherlock.

            “Clearly not Mycroft Holmes” he stated.

            “Computer error, Major.  It’ll all have to go in the report” John interrupted.

            “What the _hell’s_ going on?!” Major Barrymore shouted, making Rosie whimper.  John curled his arms tighter around his daughter, blue eyes flashing dangerously.

            “It’s all right, Major.  I know _exactly_ who these gentlemen are” Dr. Frankland called out before John could say something that would probably cause him to get punched by the major.

            “You do?” Major Barrymore asked, looking over at Dr. Frankland.  The scientist nodded.

            “Yeah.  I’m getting a little slow on faces but Mr. Holmes here isn’t someone I expected to show up in this place” he explained.

            “Ah, well…” Sherlock started.

            “Good to see you again, Mycroft” Dr. Frankland stated, holding out his hand to Sherlock.  John looked at the scientist in surprise while Sherlock smiled falsely and shook the man’s hand.

            “I had the honor of meeting Mr Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in…” he started, pretending to pause and think.

            “...Brussels, was it?” he asked, looking at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow.

            “Vienna” Sherlock replied, lying with ease.  Dr. Frankland nodded.

            “Vienna, that’s it” he agreed before he looked over at Major Barrymore.

            “This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major.  There’s obviously been a mistake” he stated.  Major Barrymore narrowed his eyes before he looked over at Lyons and nodded, making the corporal walk back to the alarm and shut it off.  The lights immediately stopped flashing and the alarms fell silent as a moment later, the entrance door’s lock disengaged noisily.  Major Barrymore then turned to Dr. Frankland and pointed at him.

            “On your head be it, Doctor Frankland” he declared.  Dr. Frankland laughed as he looked over at the approaching Corporal Lyons.

            “I’ll show them out, Corporal” he stated.  Lyons nodded.

            “Very well, sir” he replied as Sherlock spun on his heels, heading towards the now open entrance door, John following behind, Rosie clutched tightly to his chest.  Frankland followed after them and once they were away from Major Barrymore and Corporal Lyons, Sherlock sighed.

            “Thank you” he murmured.

            “This is about Henry Knight, isn’t it?” Dr. Frankland asked.  Sherlock and John said nothing, but from their silence, Dr. Frankland got his answer.

            “I _thought_ so.  I knew he wanted help but I didn’t realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!” he exclaimed, making Sherlock grimace.  Dr. Frankland smiled.

            “Oh, don’t worry.  I know who you really are.  I’m never off your website” he explained.  Sherlock hummed as he reached over to John and took Rosie out of his arms, giving her a gentle squeeze while John let out a breath of relief.  His arms were starting to burn.

            “You know Henry Knight?” he asked, stopping and turning to face Dr. Frankland.

            “Well, I knew his dad better.  He had all sorts of mad theories about this place.  Still, he was a good friend” Dr. Frankland answered.  He then glanced back the way they came and saw that Major Barrymore as standing some distance away, watching them.  He then turned back to Sherlock.

            “Listen, I can’t really talk now” he explained as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card, handing it over to John.

            “Here’s my, er, cell number.  If I could help with Henry, give me a call” he instructed.

            “I never did ask, Doctor Frankland.  What exactly is it that you do here?” Sherlock asked, bouncing Rosie in his arms.

            “Oh, Mr Holmes, I would love to tell you – but then, of course, I’d have to kill you!” Dr. Frankland replied with a laugh.

            “That would be tremendously ambitious of you” Sherlock replied with a straight face.  Dr. Frankland’s smile faded and he shrugged in embarrassment.

            “Tell us about Doctor Stapleton” John ordered.  Dr. Frankland looked over at him and shook his head.

            “Never speak ill of a colleague” he stated.  Sherlock huffed.

            “Yet you’d speak well of one, which you’re clearly omitting to do” he observed.

            “I _do_ seem to be, don’t I?” Dr. Frankland asked before he shrugged.  John then held up the card, smiling softly.

            “We’ll be in touch” he declared. 

            “Anytime” Dr. Frankland replied.  Sherlock and John then walked away, heading towards their Land Rover.

            “So?” John asked.

            “So?” Sherlock replied as he gently rubbed Rosie’s back.

            “What was all that about the rabbit?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.  Smiling slightly, Sherlock shifted Rosie to one arm as he pulled his coat tighter around himself and popped his collar with one hand before doing the same to Rosie.  John groaned and rolled his eyes.

            “Sherlock, please, can we not do this, this time?” he asked.  Sherlock looked over at his husband and raised an eyebrow.

            “Do what, love?” he asked.  John motioned to the demon’s coat and popped collar.

            “You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool.  And Rosie’s too now?” he exclaimed.  Sherlock just smiled and walked over to the angel, leaning down so that his mouth was by John’s ear.

            “But you love it when I look like this, don’t you?” he teased.  John groaned again as he playfully shoved Sherlock away.

            “Go away, you git” he replied, a fond smile on his face.  Sherlock chuckled and pressed a kiss to his husband’s lips before he walked over to the Land Rover and opened the back door, strapping Rosie into her car seat before slamming the door shut and heading to the driver’s side.  John then walked over to the passenger’s side and got in.  Once they were all buckled in, Sherlock turned on the car and put it in drive, exiting Baskerville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	4. Dewer's Hollow

As they were driving across the moors, John looked over at Sherlock.

            “So, the email from Kirsty – the, er, missing luminous rabbit” he started.

            “Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specializes in genetic manipulation” Sherlock replied before glancing up in the rearview mirror to see that Rosie was fast asleep in her car seat.

            “She made her daughter’s rabbit glow in the dark” John mused.

            “Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen.  Simple enough these days” Sherlock explained.  John hummed before he looked at Sherlock, waiting for him to continue his sentence.

            “So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals.  The question is: has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?” the demon wondered aloud.  John huffed and shrugged his shoulders.

            “To be fair, that is quite a wide field” he reminded.  Sherlock hummed and nodded, realizing that his husband was quite right.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

They continued driving until they reached Henry Knight’s house, which was an enormous four-storey stone building that was probably a very important property in the area in the past.  A large old-fashioned glass conservatory was attached to the rear of the building on the ground floor and a modern two-storey glass extension had been built onto the side of the house to join it to another two-storey stone building nearby.  Sherlock and John then parked the car and got out, Sherlock walking to the backseat and removing Rosie from her car seat, placing her head against his shoulder, humming softly to keep her asleep.  They then walked over and into the conservatory, which was very run down and in desperate need of a paint job, before walking across to the door on the opposite side.  John then rang the doorbell and in a few moments, Henry opened the door.

            “Hi” Henry greeted.

            “Hello” John replied.  Henry then motioned for them to come inside.

            “Come in, come in” he ushered.  Wiping his feet on the floormat, Sherlock walked inside and headed down the hallway, still humming.  John followed after him, looking around appreciatively.

            “Lovely home” he complimented.  Henry nodded.

            “Thank you” he replied.  John then walked into the kitchen and over to Sherlock, who was bouncing Rosie gently in his arms, humming softly.

            “I’ll take him, love” he murmured, holding out his arms.  Sherlock smiled and handed the sleeping toddler over to the angel, who bundled her into his arms and began humming a different song.  Sherlock then grabbed a mug, filled it with hot tea, then spooned two sugar lumps into his mug, stirring it.  While he was stirring the contents of his mug, John was standing next to him, humming softly, while Henry stood on side of the island gazing down at the work surface.

            “It’s-it’s a couple of words.  It’s what I keep seeing.  _Liberty_ ” he started.

            “Liberty” John repeated, nodding as he committed the word to memory, since he couldn’t exactly write it down without having to move his arms and risk waking up Rosie.

            “ _Liberty_ and… _in_.  It’s just that” Henry stated before he motioned to the milk bottle on the island.

            “Are you finished?” he asked, glancing at Sherlock.  The demon nodded.

            “Indeed” he replied.  Henry nodded in reply as he grabbed the bottle and walked over to the fridge, opening it.  As he was putting the milk away, John leaned over to Sherlock.

            “Mean anything to you?” he asked softly.

            “ _Liberty in death_ – isn’t that the expression?  The only true freedom” Sherlock replied just as softly.  John nodded and made a soft hushing noise as Rosie let out a small whine in her sleep.  Henry then turned back to him as Sherlock took a drink from his mug.

            “What now, then?” he asked.

            “Sherlock’s got a plan” John answered.  Sherlock nodded.

            “Yes” he agreed.  Henry smiled.

            “Right” he stated, looking at Sherlock to share his plan.  The demon then smirked as he took another sip of his drink.

            “We take you back out onto the moor—” he started, making Henry’s smile fall.

            “Okay” he replied nervously.

            “—and see if anything attacks you” Sherlock finished.  John’s head whipped towards him and his eyes widened.

            “What?!” he hissed, trying to be as quiet as possible so that he wouldn’t wake up Rosie.

            “That should bring things to a head” Sherlock declared.

            “At night?  You want me to go out there at night?” Henry demanded.  Sherlock nodded.

            “Mm” he replied.

            “ _That’s_ your plan?” John growled.  Sherlock looked over at his husband and raised an eyebrow.

            “You’ve got a better one?” he asked calmly.  John shook his head.

            “Sherlock, that’s not a plan!” he exclaimed softly.  Sherlock sighed and gave the angel a look.

            “John, if there _is_ a monster out there, there’s only one thing to do: find out where it lives” he stated before he looked over at Henry and smiled, taking another sip of his drink.  Henry, however, did not share the demon’s smile and instead look rather discouraged by the idea.  John also wasn’t very happy with this idea as he rested his forehead against Rosie’s head and sighed deeply.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later on that evening, Henry led Sherlock and John across the rocks towards Dewer’s Hollow.  Henry and Sherlock carried flashlights while John held up a hand, a ball of fire in the middle of his palm, lighting the uneven ground underneath their feet.  As they walked, foxes screamed repeatedly in the distance, making Rosie whine and whimper in John’s arms.

            “Hush love, it’s alright.  It’s alright” John whispered against her temple.  He continued to whisper those words for a few more minutes before she finally calmed down again.  Once she was quiet, the three men continued towards the woods and once they reached the woods, it was almost full dark and it became even darker when they headed into the trees.  As Sherlock and Henry continued forward, John, who brought up the rear, heard a rustling to his right, so he clutched at Rosie tighter and turned around to look.  Since Sherlock and Henry didn’t seem to notice what he was doing, they continued forward while the angel continued cautiously towards the sound he heard.  He then lifted his hand and gave a little more fire to his palm, but he still could see nothing.  As he looked around, he noticed a light repeatedly winking on and off at the top of a hillside a fair distance away. 

            “Sherl—” he started, only to find that his husband and Henry was gone.  He turned and lifted his hand again, trying to find them, but they were nowhere to be seen.  He let out a groan before he turned back to the light on the hillside, which was still intermittently flashing, and blinked in surprise, for he recognized that the flashes were in Morse code. 

            “U…M…Q… R…A” he spoke aloud, voice still soft to try and not startle Rosie.  He then frowned and shook his head.

            “U, M, Q, R, A.  Umqra?” he muttered, trying to figure out what the word was but failing.  He then turned and began to head towards where he thought Sherlock and Henry were.

            “Sherlock” he called out softly.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Henry were a long way head, near the minefield with its fencing and warning signs.  They made their way along the edge of the fencing while John trailed a long way behind them, still whispering his husband’s name repeatedly.

            “Sherlock…Sherlock” the angel called out softly.  Up ahead, Sherlock finally broke the silence.

            “Met a friend of yours” he stated.  Henry turned and looked at him.

            “What?” he asked. 

            “Doctor Frankland” Sherlock replied.

            “Oh, right.  Bob, yeah” Henry agreed.

            “Seems pretty concerned about you” Sherlock mused.  Henry chuckled and shook his head.

            “He’s a worrier, bless him.  He’s been very kind to me since I came back” he explained.

            “He knew your father” Sherlock stated.

            “Yeah” Henry answered.

            “But he works at Baskerville.  Didn’t your dad have a problem with that?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “Well, mates are mates, aren’t they?  I mean, look at you and John” Henry answered.  Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

            “What about us?” he growled, his tone warning Henry to think about his next words carefully.  Henry gulped and decided against saying anything, since Sherlock’s eyes had flicked to black, which quite honestly frightened him.

            “They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad” he stated instead before he stopped and turned to the left.  As Sherlock stopped and looked at him, he motioned in the direction he was looking.

            “Dewer’s Hollow” he stated unhappily.  Sherlock hummed as he turned and looked at the steep drop in the land that led down into a misty dark valley.  Meanwhile, some distance behind them, John was still following behind.

            “Sherlock” he whispered, trying to get his husband to respond, but the demon wasn’t answering.  As he progressed onwards, he heard an eerie metallic thrumming sound, making him stop and turn, lifting his hand in the direction of the sound.  When he found that it was nothing, he shook his head and continued onwards, only to have the thrum sound start again.  The sound continued to repeat, now interspersed with short metallic pings.  John frowned as he clutched Rosie to his chest before slowly walking towards the sound, only to chuckle softly when he saw a rusty metal container, possibly an oil drum, which was lying in the undergrowth.  Water was dripping from the tree above it, causing the thrums and pings as it struck the drum.  Just as John let out a sigh of relief and pressed soft kiss to Rosie’s temple, something massive flashed past behind him.  John quickly spun around to look, but it was already gone.  However, an anguished animalistic howl sounded in the distance, a howl so loud that it startled Rosie out of her slumber. 

            “Papa” she whined before she began to cry.  John’s eyes widened before he let out a growl

            “Shit” he hissed before he snuffed out the flame in his palm and wrapped both arms around his daughter, running to go find his husband and Henry.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

While John was running to find Sherlock, said demon was heading down into the Hollow, being careful to keep his balance on the steep slippery ground while Henry followed behind him more slowly.  Sherlock then reached the bottom and shone his torch around, only to find giant paw prints all around the area.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Some distance away, John was running with a wailing Rosie pressed close to his chest, desperately trying to find Sherlock and Henry when another anguished howl rang out, making Rosie wail even louder. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

About halfway down the slope, Henry paused as Sherlock shone his torch up in the direction of the sound, his face immediately filling with horror at the sight that greeted him.  He opened his mouth to say something when whatever the hell he was looking at growled savagely back at him.  Sherlock blinked and shook his head, shining his flashlight again, but the beam fails along the Hollow’s rim and the whatever-he-saw already retreated.  The demon recoiled, his face confused and bewildered as he tried to take in what he just saw.  From his position some distance away, Henry hurried down to join him.

            “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Did you see it?” he demanded.  Sherlock lowered his head, still unable to get his mind to accept the evidence of his eyes.  He then stared around, shaking his head, before shoving Henry out of his way, hurrying back up the hillside, Henry following after him.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Shortly afterwards, John finally found and caught up with Sherlock and Henry as they made their way back.

            “Sherlock!” he exclaimed, running over to his husband, blue eyes wide.  Sherlock looked up and wanted to walk right past him when he noticed Rosie looking at him with teary blue eyes.

            “Daddy” she whined, reaching out her hands towards the demon.  Sherlock smiled softly as he reached out and plucked her from John’s arms, breathing her scent in deeply before he quickly began to walk again, holding Rosie close to him.  John watched him leave before he looked back at Henry, who looked absolutely terrified.

            “Did you hear that?” he asked, referring to the howling.

            “We saw it.  We _saw_ it” Henry panted.

            “I didn’t see anything” Sherlock called back.

            “What?  What are you talking about?” Henry demanded, chasing after him.  Sherlock turned on him, heterochromic eyes flicking to black.  Henry’s eyes widened and he took a fearful step back.

            “I.  Didn’t.  See.  Anything” Sherlock snarled, showing fangs, before he turned away and started walking once more.  Henry blinked in shock while John just sighed and shook his head, following after his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	5. Sherlock's Mental Break

John followed after Sherlock for a while before the demon threw out a hand and stepped through a portal that he had created, leaving John alone.  John let out a huff and shook his head before he followed after Henry back to his home.

            “Look, he must have seen it.  I saw it – he must have.  He _must_ have. I can’t…Why? Why?” Henry demanded, looking at John in anguish.

            “Why would he say that?  It-it-it-it-it _was_ there.  It _was_ ” he stammered.  John sighed and walked over to the man, ushering him to the sofa.

            “Henry, Henry, I need you to sit down, try and relax, please” he soothed as he sat the man down, doctor mode taking over.

            “I’m okay, I’m okay” Henry muttered. 

            “Listen, I’m gonna give you something to help you sleep, alright?” John stated before he looked around, noticing a bottle of water on a bureau nearby.  He then stood up and walked over to it while Henry unwrapped his scarf from his neck, smiling.

            “This is good news, John.  It’s-it’s-it’s good.  I’m not crazy.  There _is_ a hound; there…there _is_.  And Sherlock; he saw it too.  No matter what he said, he saw it” he breathed.  John looked back at him and hummed as he handed him the water bottle before he left the house, heading back to the inn.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

When John arrived at the inn, he searched around before he found Sherlock sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, clutching Rosie to his chest as he rested his chin gently on her head, his face still full of shock and disbelief.  John let out a breath of relief before he walked over to his husband, standing before him.

            “There you are” he breathed before he titled his head to the side.

            “You alright, love?” he asked gently.  Sherlock said nothing while Rosie just played with Sherlock’s scarf, since all of her toys were up in their bedroom.  John just sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

            “Well, he, Henry, is in a pretty bad way.  He’s manic, totally convinced there’s some mutant super-dog roaming the moors” he explained.  Sherlock glanced over at the angel, still saying nothing, before he looked back at the fire, lost in thought.

            “And there isn’t, though, is there?  ‘Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we’d know” John continued.  Sherlock took in a shuddering breath before he let it out, squeezing Rosie a little tighter.

            “They’d be for _sale_.  I mean, that’s how it works” John continued, glancing at his husband every now and then, noticing a change in his usual cocky demeanor.

            “Oh, by the way, on the moor I saw someone signaling.  Er, Morse – I _guess_ it’s Morse” he muttered.  Sherlock said nothing as he started to blink rapidly and repeatedly.

            “Doesn’t seem to make much sense” John explained before he sighed and crossed his arms, looking down at Sherlock.

            “Sherlock, what’s wrong?  Honestly” he begged.

            “Henry’s right” Sherlock whispered, making John raise an eyebrow.

            “What?” he asked.

            “I saw it too” Sherlock stated, voice shaking.  John looked at him in shock.

            “You saw it too” he exclaimed softly.  Sherlock nodded, making John kneel before him and gently grip his knee.

            “Sherlock, what did you see?” he asked gently.

            “A hound, out there in the Hollow” Sherlock replied, face twisted with self-loathing as he forced himself to admit the truth.

            “A gigantic hound” he continued as he looked down at John, whom he thought was going to laugh, since it was rare for him to admit things like this, but the angel was just staring at him with gentle eyes.  Sherlock blinked back tears before he unwrapped one arm from around Rosie and reached over, grabbing his drink and holding it up for John to see.

            “Look at me.  I’m afraid, John.  Afraid” he snarled, making the angel look at the hand holding the glass, noting that it was trembling.

            “Sherlock, darling—” he started when Sherlock shook his head and took a sip of the content of the glass.

            “Always been able to keep myself distant...divorce myself from… _feelings_.  But look, you see…” he stated, motioning to his hand, which was still shaking.

            “... body’s betraying me.  Interesting, yes?  Emotions” he snarled as he slammed the glass down, making Rosie flinch in his arms.  John’s eyes immediately went to her, checking her over, before he looked at Sherlock again.

            “Sherlock, love, just take it easy.  You’ve been pretty wired lately, you know you have.  I think you’ve just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up” he murmured.  Sherlock’s heterochromic eyes widened as he looked at his husband.

            “Worked…up?” he repeated, voice soft.  John knew that tone and he took a deep breath before he continued.

            “It was dark and scary…” he started.  Sherlock laughed sarcastically, making Rosie glance up at him with curious blue eyes.

            “Me?!  There’s nothing wrong with me” he spat before he looked away and began to hyperventilate.  He then removed his arms from around Rosie and put his fingers to his temples, groaning, making Rosie and John look at him with concern.

            “Sherlock—” John started.

            “Daddy?” Rosie asked softly.  Sherlock then began to blow out breaths, his fingers trembling against his skin.

            “Darling—” John started again, making Sherlock look at him, heterochromic eyes black once more, like how they had been when he had yelled at Henry.

            **“THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!”** he roared, making John’s eyes widen as he pushed himself to his feet to look down at his husband.

            **“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”** Sherlock snarled, revealing fangs, before he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.  He then looked up at John, whose eyes were still wide, before he smiled darkly.

            “You want me to prove it, yes?” he asked.  John opened his mouth to argue when Sherlock began speaking again.

            “We’re looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that’s your brilliant theory.  Cherchez le chien.  Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?” he asked before he looked over his shoulder and pointed towards a man and woman sitting opposite each other at a table in the corner of the restaurant.

            “How about them?  The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman.  The answer’s yes” he stated, his voice savage and relentless.

            “Yes?” John repeated, finally gaining his voice.

            “She’s got a West Highland terrier called Whisky.  Not exactly what we’re looking for” Sherlock sneered.  John sighed and shook his head.

            “Sherlock, please, don’t—” he started when Sherlock began to deduce, ignoring his plea.  He first started off with the man and his jumper with reindeer and holly leaves knitted into it before turning away again.

            “Look at the jumper he’s wearing.  Hardly worn.  Clearly he’s uncomfortable in it.  Maybe it’s because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it’s a present, probably Christmas.  So he wants into his mother’s good books.  Why?  Almost certainly money” he started before taking another look at the man.

            “He’s treating her to a meal but his own portion is small.  That means he wants to impress her, but he’s trying to economize on his own food” he continued.  John sighed tiredly.

            “Well, maybe he’s just not hungry” he replied before he shook his head.

            “Please Sherlock, stop this” he begged.  Sherlock ignored him, still deducing.

            “No, small plate.  Starter.  He’s practically licked it clean.  She’s nearly finished her pavlova.  If she’d treated him, he’d have had as much as he wanted.  He’s hungry all right, and not well-off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes” he stated.

            “How d’you know she’s his mother?” John asked quietly.

            “Who else would give him a Christmas present like that?  Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother’s more likely.  Now, he _was_ a fisherman.  Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks.  They’re all quite old now, which suggests he’s been unemployed for some time.  Not much industry in this part of the world, so he’s turned to his widowed mother for help” Sherlock answered, his voice harsh and frantic.  John shook his head.

            “Sherlock, stop it” he pleaded.

            “She’s got a man’s wedding ring on a chain round her neck – clearly her late husband’s and too big for her finger.  She’s well-dressed but her jewelry’s cheap.  She could afford better, but she’s kept it – it’s sentimental” Sherlock stated, ignoring his husband’s plea.

            “Sherlock—” John started.

            “Now, the dog…tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it’s a small dog, probably a terrier.  In fact it _is_ – a West Highland terrier called Whisky” Sherlock interrupted, his voice still harsh and frantic.

            “Sherlock—” John tried again.

            “The way I know its name is cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that’s not cheating, that’s listening.  I use my senses, John, unlike _some_ people, so you see, I _am_ fine, in fact I’ve never been better, so just **Leave.  Me.  Alone** ” Sherlock snarled, glaring up at John, who looked just as gutted as he did the first time he and Sherlock had an actual fight.  He then took a deep breath and shook his head before he turned and began to walk away, making Sherlock wrap his arms around Rosie once more as he stood to his feet.

            “Where are you going?” he demanded.  John whirled on him, fire burning in his blue eyes.

            “Away from you.  I can’t be near you when you’re like this Sherlock.  I just can’t” he snapped before he turned away and began walking again.  Sherlock’s eyes widened and his eyes flicked back to normal as Rosie reached out towards John, tears filling her eyes.

            “Papa, no go!” she cried.  John ignored his daughter’s cries, no matter how much he wanted to turn back, and continued walking.  Sherlock walked quickly after John, eyes wide with fear.

            “John, please.  Don’t go” he begged.  John ignored his calls as well, quickening his pace until he was outside the inn, breathing heavily, trying to hold back his tears.  He hated fighting with Sherlock, but he wasn’t going to put up with being yelled at.  He was just trying to help and the demon completely pushed him away.  While he knew this was probably not the best thing to do, he didn’t know what else to do.  He then looked into the sky and blew out a breath, pulling himself together, before looking into the distance.  The flashing light was back on the hillside, making him narrow his eyes and as it continued to flash, he took off in that direction, painfully ignoring his husband and daughter’s cries for him to come back.

            “John!” Sherlock shouted.

            “Papa!” Rosie cried.  It was no use; the angel was already gone.  Sherlock huffed out a short breath, tears in his eyes, before he looked down at Rosie, who looked back up at him with tears streaming down her face.

            “I messed up quite badly darling” he murmured.  Rosie whimpered as she turned and buried her face into Sherlock’s chest.

            “Want Papa” she cried.  Sherlock sighed deeply as he wrapped his arms around Rosie and hugged her tightly, pressing his lips into her hair.

            “I do too, sweetheart.  I do too” he murmured, a single tear streaming down his face before he lifted his head and let out a shuddering breath.

            “Come now.  Let’s go get cleaned up and wait for him to come back” he suggested as he turned and headed back into the inn, rubbing Rosie’s back comfortingly.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, at Henry’s house, Henry was asleep on the sofa at the edge of the kitchen, a duvet over him and a pillow under his head, presumably brought in by John after giving him a sleeping pill.  He then yawned and sat up, rubbing his hands over his face before sighing.  Now that he was awake, he stood up and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, looking out into the dark garden.  Still half-asleep, he suddenly had a mental flash of the word “Liberty” stitched into material, quickly followed by the word “In”.  Recoiling from the memory, he buried his face in his hands and sighed in anguish.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Out in the moors, John was walking towards the flashing light on the hillside, a ball of fire in his palm.  As he reached the top of the hill, he heard a rhythmic squeaking noise, and as he lifted up his hand and shone the fire around, he realized that there were several cars parked up there.  As he looked into the cars, the drivers flinched and held up their hands to shield their faces from the light of John’s fire, but they were also trying to avoid being identified and John now realized why when he turned his beam onto a car which had slightly steamed-up windows and which was rocking from side to side.  Its headlights were intermittently flashing on and off and he could hear a woman’s voice coming from inside the car.

            “Oh!  Mr. Selden!  You’ve done it again!” the woman moaned.

            “Oh, I keep catching it with my belt” a man groaned back.  As the inhabitants of the car groaned and continued about their business, John lowered his hand, sighing deeply.

            “Oh, God” he muttered, realizing that the Morse code he memorized earlier was nothing more than the random flashings of a car’s headlights during the sexual goings-on of a dogging site.

            “Damn” he grumbled as he turned and walked away from the hillside.  As he was walking away, his phone trilled with a text message, making him pull it out and look at the message.

 

_Henry’s therapist currently in Cross Keys Pub_

_S_

John huffed and rolled his eyes as he typed back his response.

 

_SO?_

The reply from Sherlock was almost immediate.

 

_Interview her?_

 

John shook his head.

 

_WHY SHOULD I?_

His phone trilled again with another instant reply and the single word nearly made him let out a sob.

 

_Please?_

 

He sucked in a deep breath and pressed his phone to his forehead before he sighed and typed back a response as he headed back to the inn.

 

_Fine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much angst in this chapter. It needed to happen sometime, so, here we are. Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	6. Sherlock Apologizes

While John was heading back to the inn, in his house, Henry was sitting on the sofa, the duvet wrapped around him.  The television was on nearby, but he was dozing and not paying attention to it.  He then woke up a little and looked out in the dark garden again, his eyes tired and heavy, before turning towards the TV.  An old black and white film was showing several dogs running around somewhere dark and spooky-looking.  Henry’s eyes widened and he quickly changed the channel to a less threatening film that looked as if it was set in a rural village during the 1940s.  Suddenly, the security lights outside the house came on, making Henry anxiously look into the garden, but saw nothing moving in the bright lights.  A few seconds later, the lights faded out again.  Henry turned away and immediately – unseen by him – something moved quickly across the garden near the back fence.  Henry changed the TV channel again and picked the worst possible choice as a wolf snarled straight into the camera while a woman screamed in terror offscreen.  Recoiling in annoyed frustration, Henry turned off the TV, and immediately the security lights came on again.  There still appeared to be nothing out there but as Henry got up and walked closer to the glass as the lights began to fade again, a huge shape flicked across the garden at the far end.  It moved so that it was impossible to see what it was, except that it appeared to be fairly low to the groan.  Henry recoiled in horror and looked across to a small cabinet on the other side of the room.  He hesitated, almost afraid to move, but then ran across and scrabbled in the cabinet before pulling out an old-looking pistol.  Panting in terror, he turned and looked out into the dark garden again before slowly walking towards the glass doors.  Just as he had almost got his nose pressed to the glass, the lights blazed again and a massive shape, most definitely looking like the head of a huge dog, slammed against the glass on the other side before immediately vanishing again.  Screaming and wailing in panic, Henry stumbled back, aiming his pistol at the glass as the lights faded out again.  Henry let out a sob as a couple seconds later, the lights flashed yet again.  His eyes raked over the garden but there was nothing to be seen.  The lights faded out one more time and by now, Henry had sunk to the floor, his hands over his face as he sobbed in absolute terror.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

At the Cross Keys Inn, John was sitting before Dr. Louise Mortimer, sipping tea while she had a glass of wine.

            “So, Dr. Watson, what can I do for you?” she asked.

            “I’m one of Henry Knights friends” John replied making Dr. Mortimer shake her head.

            “Henry has told me about all his friends.  Which one are you?” she asked. 

            “A new one” John replied before crossing his arms.

            “What about Henry’s father?  He wasn’t one of your patients, correct?” he asked.  Dr. Mortimer nodded.

            “Wasn’t he some sort of conspiracy theorist?” John asked.  Dr. Mortimer scoffed.

            “You’re only a nutter if you’re wrong” she replied.  John raised an eyebrow.

            “Mm. And was he wrong?” he asked. 

            “I should think so!” Dr. Mortimer exclaimed.

            “But he got fixated on Baskerville, didn’t he?  With what they were doing in there…couldn’t Henry have gone the same way, started imagining a hound?” John asked.  Dr. Mortimer gave him a pointed look.

            “Why d’you think I’m going to talk about this?!” she exclaimed.  John gave her a look right back, feeling tired and wanting to go back to his room.

            “Because you’re worried about him and because I’m a doctor too and because my husband might be having the same problem” he growled.  Dr. Mortimer locked eyes with him for a moment before she sighed and opened her mouth, about to tell him, when a hand clapped down on John’s shoulder, making him freeze before looking over his shoulder at Dr. Frankland.

            “Dr. Watson!” Dr. Frankland greeted brightly.

            “Hello” John growled, not in the mood to talk to the man.

            “How’s the investigation going?” Dr. Frankland asked.  John’s eyes widened and he quickly stood up, eyes glowing in anger.

            “I will not discuss any of our business with you, Dr. Frankland.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go tuck my daughter into bed” he snarled, turning to Dr. Mortimer and nodding before he stood up and started to head towards the stairs that led to the rooms.

            “Listen, tell Sherlock I’ve been keeping an eye on Stapleton.  Any time he wants a little chat…right?” Dr. Frankland called out.

            “Of course” John called back, still angry as he headed up the stairs.  When he walked up the stairs and over to his room, he let out a deep sigh before he took out the key from his pocket and put it in the lock, turning it and entering the room.  He was shocked to find that a single lamp was still on and Sherlock was still up, sitting in one of the arm chairs.

            “Sherlock?  What are you still doing up?” he called out as he closed the door and started to walk towards the demon.  Sherlock’s head snapped up at John’s voice and before John knew what was happening, the demon had appeared before him and was cupping his face gently in his hands.

            “John.  Oh my John” he whispered before he leaned down and kissed the angel soundly.  John’s eyes widened before he leaned into the kiss, gripping at Sherlock’s lapels, holding them tightly.  The demon and angel kissed for what seemed like forever before Sherlock pulled away and leaned his forehead against John’s, letting out a shuddering breath.

            “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry” he whispered.  John frowned as he removed a hand from Sherlock’s lapel and reached up, touching the demon’s cheek gently.

            “Why are you sorry?” he asked softly.  Sherlock let out another shuddering breath, which John could see and feel underneath his hand.

            “I yelled at you.  I was scared and you were only trying to help and I told you to leave me alone” he murmured.  John let out a soft scoff and rolled his eyes.

            “Oh, Sherlock—” he started when Sherlock lifted his head and looked down into John’s blue eyes, his own heterochromic eyes full of tears.

            “I _yelled_ at you, John.  I yelled at you when I shouldn’t have.  I’m sorry” he apologized, sounding absolutely gutted and remorseful.  John smiled and shook his head.

            “It’s alright, Sherlock.  You were scared that you saw something that you thought didn’t exist.  It happens.  And while I wish you hadn’t taken your anger and fear out on me, I understand” he soothed, stroking his husband’s cheek.  Sherlock looked back down at him, eyes wide, before he sighed and leaned forward, shutting his eyes.

            “You’re too good for me” he murmured.  John chuckled and shook his head.

            “I have my moments too Sherlock.  You would do the same for me” he whispered.  Sherlock smiled slightly before he lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to John’s forehead and let out another sigh.

            “I love you” he whispered.  John smiled and lifted onto his tiptoes, pressing a kiss to the demon’s cheek.

            “I love you too” he replied.  Sherlock then stood up, John lowering his hand, but before he could head to bed, Sherlock grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly.  John raised an eyebrow before he just smiled and wrapped his arms around the demon, resting his cheek on Sherlock’s chest.  They stood there for a while before they pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes.  John smiled and reached up, placing his hand on Sherlock’s cheek again, smiling a little wider as the demon leaned into his hand. 

            “Come on, Sherlock.  Let’s go to bed” he murmured.  Sherlock nodded as he reached up and gently took John’s wrist, leading him to the bedroom, where they promptly fell asleep, cuddled in each other’s arms.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day, after Sherlock and John had a restful night, they were right back out on the moors, with Sherlock on the stony outcrop again, staring towards Baskerville while John was on the ground, holding Rosie in his arms.  Sherlock’s eyes flicked between the complex and Dewer’s Hollow, before turning and looking back towards Grimpen Village.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After they left the moors, Sherlock and John headed for Henry’s house, and when they knocked on the door, Henry opened it and Sherlock quickly surged forward, making John sigh and shake his head as he followed after the demon.

            “Morning Henry” he greeted as Sherlock headed straight towards the kitchen before stopping and turning, clapping the man on his shoulders.

            “How are you feeling?” he asked, noting that Henry looked absolutely terrible.

            “I’m…I didn’t sleep very well” Henry admitted.  Sherlock hummed.

            “Shame.  Shall I make you some coffee?” he asked.  Henry nodded, allowing Sherlock to head for the kitchen, where he quickly opened every cabinet until he found the metal jar that he was looking for.  He then began to rummage inside it before he put something into his coat pocket.  Then, to make to look like he was actually making coffee, he went over to the sink and picked up a couple of mugs, taking them over to the central island just as Henry tiredly wandered in, John following behind.

            “Listen…last night” Henry started, making John and Sherlock look at him with raised eyebrows as Sherlock took the coffee tin lid off and began to dump spoonsful of coffee into one of the mugs.

            Why did you say you hadn’t seen anything?  I mean, I only saw the hound for a minute, but...” he continued when Sherlock slammed the coffee tin lid down and stormed over to Henry, looking into his eyes.

            “Hound” he stated.

            “What?” Henry asked, a frown on his face.

            “Why do you call it a hound?  Why a hound?” Sherlock demanded.

            “Why – what do you mean?” Henry replied and John really wanted to know as well.

            “It’s odd, isn’t it?  Strange choice of words – archaic.  It’s why I took the case. _“Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.”_   Why say “hound”?” Sherlock inquired.  Henry shook his head.

            “I don’t know!  I…” he started.

            “Actually, I’d better skip the coffee.  Come John” Sherlock called out as he flared out of the kitchen.  John looked apologetically over at Henry before he followed after Sherlock, leaving Henry to sigh wearily.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later, when Sherlock and John returned to the village, Sherlock looked over at the angel.

            “Did you get anywhere with that Morse code?” he asked.  John looked up from Rosie and shook his head.

            “Unfortunately, no” he replied.

            “U, M, Q, R, A, wasn’t it?” Sherlock asked.

            “Yes, but it turns out it was nothing” John grumbled, looking a bit put out.  Sherlock hummed as he put his hands behind his back.

            “How about Louise Mortimer?  Did you get anywhere with her?” he asked.  John shook his head again.

            “No” he replied.  Sherlock tsked.

            “Too bad.  Did you get any information?” he asked.  John shook his head.

            “Like I said, Sherlock, I didn’t” he replied.  Sherlock sighed and continued walking before he stopped, eyes widening.

            “John.  Oh my John, you are brilliant!” he exclaimed.  John frowned and turned to look at him.

            “Sorry, what?” he asked.  Sherlock then quickly walked over to him and took Rosie out of his arms, lifting her high in the air and spinning around.

            “You Papa is bloody brilliant love!” he declared.  John smiled and shook his head before he crossed his arms.

            “Alright Sherlock, put her down before she gets sick.  Now, what did I do that’s so brilliant?” he asked.  Sherlock stopped spinning Rosie and clutched her close as he looked over at the angel.

            “Hound” he declared.  John frowned.

            “Yeah?  What about it?” he asked.

            “But what if it’s not a word?  What if it is individual letters?” Sherlock explained.  John’s eyes widened.

            “H. O. U. N. D” he whispered to himself before he looked into Sherlock’s eyes.

            “You think it’s an acronym?” he asked.  Sherlock shrugged.

            “Absolutely no idea but…” he started as he turned towards the pub when he trailed off as he stared at two distinct figures: one that was dressed as always in a well-tailored three-piece suit with an umbrella on his arm while the other was dressed in grey trousers, a grey shirt and with a light jacket over the top.  Sherlock’s mouth dropped open before he quickly stormed over to the pub, John following behind.

            “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring at Mycroft and Lestrade once he reached the pub, John quickly arriving at his side.

            “We’re on holiday” Mycroft answered, smiling at Rosie when she turned to look at him.

            “Unca Myc!” she exclaimed.  Mycroft smiled as he reached out and took his niece from Sherlock’s arms, pressing a kiss to her head.

            “Hello darling” he replied before he shot Sherlock a look.

            “Stole my all access pass, did we?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  Sherlock looked a bit sheepish while John just laughed.

            “Told you we would get in trouble” he teased before he looked back at Mycroft and Lestrade.

            “Now, why are you really here?” he asked.

            “Well, you did break into Baskerville.  Why else do you think we’re here?” Mycroft replied.  John hummed while Sherlock scowled.

            “Couldn’t have just stayed out of this, could you?” he snapped.  Lestrade sighed and shook his head.

            “Come now boys, let’s not fight” he scolded before he looked at Sherlock.

            Sherlock, we’re just trying to help.  Let us help you, yeah?” he asked.  Sherlock sighed deeply before he nodded.

            “Alright, fine” he grumbled, making John chuckle and smile before he looked at Lestrade.

            “Actually Greg, you could be just the man we want” he stated.  Lestrade raised an eyebrow as did Mycroft.

            “Oh?  Why?” Lestrade asked. 

            “Well, I think I might have found something” John replied as he rummaged in his trouser pockets and pulled out the sales invoice from Undershaw Meat Supplies which he stole off the bar while he was checking in, showing it to the two demons and kitsune.

            “Here.  Didn’t know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be.  That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant” he explained.  Sherlock smiled.

            “Excellent” he praised.  John then looked over at Lestrade and smirked.

            “Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy” he teased.  Mycroft looked over at Lestrade and smiled.

            “Up to it, darling?” he asked.  Lestrade chuckled and crossed his arms.

            “Damn right I am” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	7. Monster in the Lab

A few moments later, in the small Snug next to the bar, Greg and Mycroft were sitting at a table looking through paperwork – presumably previous invoices from Undershaw – while Gary the manager and Billy the chef sat at the other side of the table looking at them anxiously.  Nearby, Sherlock poured a cup of coffee from a filter machine before stirring it, ostentatiously tapping the drips off the spoon into the cup before picking it up and carrying it over to John, offering it to him.

            “What’s this?” John asked, looking up from talking to Rosie. 

            “Coffee.  I made coffee” Sherlock replied, holding out the cup.  John blinked in surprise.

            “You never make coffee” he exclaimed. 

            “I just did. Don’t you want it?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.  John smiled fondly at his husband.

            “Sherlock, you don’t have to keep apologizing” he reminded.  Sherlock pouted before he looked away, a hurt expression on his face.  John let out a sigh and looked down at Rosie, shaking his head with a fond smile on his face.

            “Your Daddy, such a drama queen” he murmured before he looked over at Sherlock.

            “Alright, give it here” he instructed.  Sherlock looked back at him, smiling brightly as he handed John the cup, taking Rosie from him as he did so.  As John took a sip of the coffee, he made a face.

            “Mm.  I don’t take sugar—” he started when he glanced up at Sherlock, who looked away again, the hurt expression back on his face.  John let out another exasperated sigh before he took another sip.

            “Thank you Sherlock” he murmured, a small smile on his face.  Sherlock perked up and nearly puffed up with pride while Lestrade glared at Gary and Billy.

            “These records go back nearly two months” he stated. 

            “Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?” Mycroft asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “It’s me.  It was me” Billy exclaimed before he turned to Gary.

            “I’m sorry, Gary – I couldn’t help it.  I had a bacon sandwich at Cal’s wedding and one thing just led to another…” he started.  Mycroft and Lestrade gave them both a look, making the two men shrink in fear.

            “Nice try” Lestrade growled.  Gary then sighed and shook his head.

            “Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know?  A great big dog run wild up on the moor – it was heaven-sent.  It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster” he explained.

            “Where do you keep it?” Mycroft demanded.

            “There’s an old mineshaft.  It’s not too far.  It was all right there” Gary replied.

            “Was?” Sherlock called out, making Gary and Billy look over at him before they looked back at Mycroft and Lestrade.

            “We couldn’t control the bloody thing.  It was vicious” Gary explained with a sigh.

            “And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er…you know” he continued with another sigh.

            “It’s dead?” John called out.

            “Put down” Gary answered.

            “Yeah. No choice. So it’s over” Billy added.

            “It was just a joke, you know?” Gary explained.  Lestrade and Mycroft began to growl, making Gary and Billy shrink again in fear at the two men.

            “Yeah, hilarious!” Lestrade snapped as he stood up, Mycroft following after him. 

            “You’ve nearly driven a man out of his mind” Mycroft snarled, eyes flashing red before they walked out of the room, John following after them, first placing his cup down on the mantle above the fireplace.  Sherlock waited for them to leave before he peered into the cup before following after them, a small smile on his face as he gave Rosie a gentle squeeze.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

            “You know, he’s actually pleased you two are here?” John stated as he followed Mycroft and Lestrade out of the pub.  Lestrade gave him a disbelieving look while Mycroft scoffed.

            “From the way he greeted us, I beg to differ” he replied.  John chuckled and rolled his eyes.

            “He’ll never admit it, but he is happy to see you” he explained.  Mycroft hummed while Lestrade chuckled.

            “Well, good to know” he murmured, just as Sherlock walked out with Rosie.

            “So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?” Lestrade asked, looking over at the younger demon.  Sherlock shrugged as he handed Rosie over to John.

            “No reason not to” he replied.  Lestrade hummed and crossed his arm.

            “Well, hopefully there’s no harm done.  Not quite sure what I’d charge him with anyway.  I’ll have a word with the local Force” he stated, turning and walking away.  While he was walking away, Mycroft turned to John and Sherlock.

            “So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the two men.  Sherlock and John looked at him with wide eyes and Mycroft chuckled and shook his head.

            “You forget who you two are talk to” he reminded.  John chuckled and shook his head while Sherlock hummed.

            “Looks like it” he replied.  John then looked at Sherlock and frowned.

            “But that wasn’t what _you_ saw.  That wasn’t just an ordinary dog” he stated.  Sherlock sighed deeply and shook his head.

            “No” he replied as his gaze became distant.

            “It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing.  Its whole body was glowing” he whispered before he shuddered, shaking off the memory before walking towards the car park.

            “I’ve got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it” he declared.  Mycroft and John followed after him, John frowning.

            “How?  Can’t pull off the ID trick again” he reminded.  Sherlock chuckled and looked over at Mycroft.

            “Might not have to” he replied, giving Mycroft a look.  Mycroft smiled darkly.

            “I don’t mind.  Just let me call Lestrade and then we’ll be off” he declared.  Sherlock inclined his head.

            “Thank you” he thanked. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

After Mycroft called Lestrade back to the inn (after he had spoken to the local Force of course), they drove to Baskerville, where they were once again stopped by an armed guard.  The armed guard walked over to Mycroft’s side while the dog handler and sniffer dog also approached.

            “Afternoon, sir. If you could turn the engine off” the guard instructed.  Mycroft turned off the engine and handed over his ID pass, making the guard nod.

            “Thank you” he thanked as he headed over to the gate room to swipe the card while other soldiers checked the vehicle over from the outside.  While they were doing that, Sherlock leaned over to John, who was sitting next to him in the backseat, since Mycroft was in the driver seat and Lestrade was in the passenger seat.

            “Mycroft, Lestrade and I will need to see Major Barrymore as soon as we get inside” he whispered.  John nodded.

            “Alright” he agreed.

            “Which means you’ll have to start the search for the hound” Sherlock continued.

            “Okay” John agreed as the guard brought back the ID card, handing it over to Mycroft.

            “Could be dangerous” Sherlock whispered, making John chuckled.

            “When has our work ever not been dangerous?” he whispered back as Mycroft turned the car back on and drove into the base.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later, after Mycroft had parked the car, he, Lestrade, and Sherlock walked into the Major Barrymore’s office, where the major was sitting at his desk while Mycroft stood before him, Sherlock and Lestrade standing on either side of him, almost like soldiers.

            “Oh, you know I’d love to. I’d _love_ to give you unlimited access to this place.  Why not?!” Major Barrymore exclaimed.  Mycroft looked at him calmly, hands clasped behind his back while Lestrade held his umbrella at his side.

            “It’s a simple enough request, Major” he stated.

            “I’ve never heard of anything so bizarre” Major Barrymore grumbled.

            “You’re to give me twenty-four hours” Mycroft ordered.  Major Barrymore narrowed his eyes.

            “And what if I refuse?” he asked.  Mycroft smiled darkly as his eyes melted to red, Sherlock’s eyes flicked to black, and Lestrade shifted into a large silver kitsune.

            “Oh, you won’t do that.  Not if you have any smarts on you” Mycroft replied.  Major Barrymore stood to his feet.

            “Are you threating me?” he growled.  Mycroft stepped forward, eyes still red, and tilted his head slightly.

            “And what I am?  What are you going to do?” he purred, his voice dark and dangerous.  Major Barrymore gulped before he sighed and sat down.

            “Fine.  Twenty-four hours.  And not a second more” he declared.  Mycroft nodded.

            “Thank you” he thanked as his eyes returned to normal, Lestrade shifted back, and Sherlock’s eyes flicked back to normal.

            “I don’t know what you expect to find here anyway” Major Barrymore grumbled as Mycroft, Sherlock, and Lestrade turned to leave.

            “Perhaps the truth” Sherlock called out.

            “About what?  Oh, I see.  The big coat should have told me” Major Barrymore grumbled.  Mycroft, Lestrade, and Sherlock stopped, turning to face the man.

            “You three are of the conspiracy lot, aren’t you?” he sneered.  Mycroft scoffed.

            “As if, Major” he replied.  Major Barrymore smiled as he waved his hand.

            “Well, then, go ahead, seek them out: the monsters, the death rays, the aliens” he sneered.  Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

            “Have you got any of those?” he asked.  Major Barrymore rolled his eyes making Lestrade smirk.

            “Oh, just wondering” he replied.  Major Barrymore let out a huff before he turned away from the three men.

            “Good luck gentlemen” he bid.  Sherlock, Mycroft, and Lestrade said nothing as they walked out of the room.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Meanwhile, at Henry’s house, Henry was in the sitting room holding a framed photograph of himself when he was about five years old standing in between his parents.  As he sat clutching the photograph, he gazed into the distance with a lost expression on his face as exhaustion gradually began to claim him and his eyelids started to droop.  Eventually, his eyes closed completely – and immediately the red glowing eyes of the hound flashed in his mind.  Gasping in horror, Henry opened his eyes again before wailing in anguish.

            “Oh, God!” he cried as he clutched as his head before he buried his face in his hands, weeping in despair.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Back at Baskerville, the lift doors opened into the first lab that Sherlock and John previously visited but this time only John and Rosie come out of the elevator.  Walking forward, John saw that there were only two scientists in the room and they were now leaving through a side door.  One of them turned off the main overhead lights as he left, which left the room lit far more dimly by a few arch lights on stands which were dotted around, and by the screens of some computers.  John looked around a little anxiously when he realized how spooky and quiet it was, and clutched Rosie a little closer as he walked towards a door at the far end of the lab, the door that Dr. Frankland came out of on the first occasion that they met him.  He then took out a security pass that Mycroft had given him and swiped it through the reader, pulling the door open with one hand before heading inside, ignoring the handwritten note stuck on the outside that read:

 

**KEEP OUT**

UNLESS YOU WANT

A COLD!

 

He and Rosie then walked through the decontamination zone to the door at the end and tapped a finger on the glass window in the door.  When nobody replied, he pushed open the door with his shoulder and walked into a room that had a glass-walled section on the left hand side.  There was a glass-fronted cage inside the sealed section but there didn’t appear to be anything inside.  In front of them was a desk with equipment, folders, a phone, and various other things on it and above the desk were small plastic tubes coming out of the wall and dials that indicated that these tubes dispensed various gases.  John then opened the door of a small cupboard set into the desk but found nothing of interest and so continued looking around.  On the right hand side of the room were large metal pipes that presumably also carried gases.  One of them was leaking slightly, which John noticed but thought nothing off as he continued walking.  He and Rosie peered around a little longer before walking out of the room and back through the decontamination zone, into the lab.  Just to their right was a large arc light on a stand.  As John and Rosie turned to the right to close the door behind them, the device lit up and nine bright bulbs shone straight into their eyes.  Rosie let out a cry and buried her face in John’s shoulder while John squinched his eyes shut and turned his head away, grimacing in pain.

            “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed before he opened his eyes a little and squinted, trying to see into the room.  All the other lights in the room appeared to have come on as well and – with his and Rosie’s vision blanked out by the arc lights – there was a wall of whiteness all around them.  Just then, a loud insistent alarm began to blare into the room, making Rosie whine and John groan, both Watsons completely overwhelmed by the bright light, lack of vision and the noise.  John then started to make his way across the room, pressing Rosie’s head into his chest, covering her other ear with his hand so that she wasn’t experiencing the brunt of the loud alarm like he was.  Also, by pressing her head into his chest and covering her ear with his other hand, he was also shielding her eyes from the entire bright lights that flooded the entire room, which was making it a little difficult for him to make it across.  When they finally made it to the other end of the lab, John removed his hand from Rosie’s ear and reached into his pocket, pulling out the ID and swiping it across the reader.  However, the reader whined and flashed the message: “ACESS DENIED”.  He stared in disbelief and swiped the card again but it whined and gave him the same message.  He growled and winced in pain as the alarm continued to blare as he tried once more.

            “Come on” he hissed.  The reader whined again as the message flashed once more.  John glared at it in exasperation – and at that moment all the lights went out and the alarm droned into silence.  The room was now under emergency lighting only, which was dark red and barely illuminated the area.

            “What the fuck?” John whispered, making sure to cover Rosie’s ears before he swore.  He then removed his hand from her ear and lifted it up, forming a ball of fire in his palm to illuminate the way. 

            “Hello?” he called out, clutching Rosie tighter to him.  He then screwed his eyes shut for a moment in a failed attempt to clear the after-images before he opened his eyes again and peered through the bright dots that spotted his vision.  As he peered through the dots, a shadow seemed to flicker across the room some distance away.  John blinked and looked around the room, the after-images still frustrating his ability to see anything clearly.  Even though he was a supernatural being, things like the super bright lights still affected him.  He then snuffed out the flame so that he could rub his eyes before stopping and raising his head, realizing that the lab was ominously quiet.  However, that didn’t last long because something rattled to his right, making Rosie let out a cry.  He quickly wrapped his arms tighter around before walking forward cautiously, looking a little anxiously at the row of large cages that he now realized were all covered with sheeting that obscured their contents.  He then continued forward, clutching Rosie to him, towards the first cage, turning once to check behind him, before reaching out with a hand and yanking the sheet away to reveal that the cage was empty.  He let out a breath of relief.

            “Oh, thank God” he breathed as he headed to the next cage when something clinked near the lift doors.  John spun around, lifting up a hand and quickly creating a ball of fire in his palm.  He saw nothing so he snuffed out the flame and headed to the second cage, grabbing the sheet and tossing it back to reveal another empty cage.  He then walked over to the third cage and threw back the sheet, only to have the inhabitant of the cage, a monkey, hurl itself at him and Rosie, screaming as it grabbed at the bars.  Rosie let out a terrified shriek while John quickly dropped the sheet and took a few steps, panting harshly.

            “Bloody hell” he breathed, pressing a kiss to Rosie’s hair as she continued to wail and cry.

            “Shh…shhh, it’s alright Rosie” he soothed.  Rosie wailed and cried for a little while longer before she quieted down to just sniffles and whimpers.  Once John was sure that she was calm enough, he walked over to the final cage and looked at it, only to have his gaze pulled down to the bottom of the bars, where the sheeting had been pushed back a little.  The door of the cage was slightly ajar and the bottom of it had been bent back by something that must have been incredibly strong.  As John stared at the bent bars in disbelief, a low savage growl sounded behind him.  John spun around, his eyes wide with fear as he clutched Rosie to him, taking a few steps back before he noticed the nearby door to the Cold Lab and walked briskly over to it, taking out his ID card and swiping it, only to have the reader whine its ACCESS DENIED alert.

            “No, come on, come on” he begged as he swiped the card again.  Again it refused to open the door, so John just let out a groan as he shifted Rosie to one arm as he pulled out his mobile and hit the speed dial, holding the phone to his ear as it begins to ring out and continues to ring.

“No, you…don’t be ridiculous, pick up” he hissed.  After whoever he was calling didn’t answer, he gave up and hung up, putting the phone back in his pocket.  He then looked down at Rosie, who was still whimpering and sniffling, and sighed.

            “It’s alright sweetheart, everything is going to be fi—” he started when the distinctive sound of claws on floor tiles skittered across the room. 

            “Oh no” he whispered before he ducked down, pressing a kiss to Rosie’s head, trying to keep her quiet as the claws trotted across the floor to their right before something snarled.  Rosie let out a soft whimper and John turned, breathing heavily, as there were more sounds nearby – claws on the floor tiles, equipment being pushed aside, and then a deep ominous growl.  Rosie let out a louder whine and John quickly clamped a gently hand over her mouth while the growl rumbled on.  When the growls finally fell silent, John said a silent prayer before he made a break for it and raced across the room, running towards the cages and pulling open the door of one of the empty ones before scrambling inside, slamming the door shut and bolting it and then reaching through the bars and pulling the sheet down over the cage.  Elsewhere in the lab, the whatever-it-is snarled as John backed away and clutched at Rosie, who was now sobbing into his shirt, scared absolutely shitless.  As whatever-it-is paced around the lab, black shadows trimmed with fire slowly rose from the ground like tendrils and surrounded John while his large, fire-like wings unfurled from his back.  Suddenly, his phone began to ring, so he shifted Rosie to one arm as he reached into his pocket and unlocked it, putting it to his ear.

            “It’s here.  It’s here with us” he whispered.

            _“_ _Where are you?”_ Sherlock demanded over the phone.

            “Sherlock, you have to get us out.  Please.  Rosie is absolutely terrified.  The big lab: the first lab that we saw” John replied, terror in his voice, less for himself and more for his daughter, who was trembling in his arms.  Outside, the creature growled again, louder this time, making Rosie scream in fear.  John’s eyes widened and he looked towards the cage door, hoping that the creature didn’t hear Rosie scream.

            _“John?  John?”_ Sherlock repeated.

            “Now, Sherlock.   _Please_ ” John begged as Rosie continued to wail and cry in his arms.

            _“All right, I’ll find you.  Keep talking”_ Sherlock ordered. 

            “Sherlock, I can’t.  It’ll hear us and I’m afraid with Rosie crying, it’ll find us” John hissed.

            _“Keep talking.  What are you seeing?”_ Sherlock demanded.  John’s eyes widened.

            “There is no way in hell that I am getting close enough to look out Sherlock.  Not with Rosie” he snapped when suddenly the creature snarled again, louder this time.  Rosie screamed and John quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead, desperately trying to calm her down.

            “Shh…shhh baby, shhh” he hushed as tears began to stream down his face.

            _“John?”_ Sherlock called into the phone.

            “I’m here” John choked.

            _“John, you need to go to the gate and look out”_ Sherlock instructed. 

            “I’m not Sherlock.  I can’t.  Not with Rosie” John repeated.  Sherlock sighed into the phone.

            _“Well, what do you hear?”_ he asked.

            “Snarling.  A lot of snarling.  It’s really loud and getting closer” John replied as a shadow slowly began to walk towards the cage.

            “It’s here” he whispered, horror in his voice.  The shadow moved closer as the creature growled again, making Rosie wail and clutch at John, who pulled her closer.

            “Sherlock, it’s here” he breathed.  The shadow moved closer and then the sheeting was tugged upwards as the lights came on in the lab at the same moment that Sherlock’s face appeared on the other side of the cage, looking at his husband with worry in his eyes.  As he opened the door, John threw out a hand, sending a tendril towards him, making him quickly throw up his arm to block the attack.

            “John!  John, it’s just me!” he exclaimed.  John’s eyes widened and he quickly walked forward, nearly running, sending the shadows back from whence they came and folding his wings against his back as he ran into Sherlock’s open arms, sobbing into his husband’s chest.

            “Sherlock.  S-Sherlock” he sobbed as Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and Rosie them tightly.

            “Shhh, I’m here John.  I’m here” he soothed.  Rosie and John continued to sob into Sherlock’s chest until they finally calmed down, John breathing heavily while Rosie just rested her head against John’s shoulder, tears still streaming down his face.  Sherlock smiled sadly at his daughter, wiping away her tears with his thumb before he looked up at John and wiped away his tears as well.

            “Alright now?” he asked softly.  John huffed out a sharp breath before he shook his head.

            “It was the hound, Sherlock.  It was here.  I swear it, Sherlock.  It must—” he started as he looked around the lab which – now fully illuminated – showed that there was nowhere that a large monster could be hiding.  He then looked back at Sherlock, tears filling his eyes again.

            “It must…did…did…did you see it?  You _must_ have!” he exclaimed.  Sherlock reached out and placed a comforting hand on John’s shoulder, looking into his teary blue eyes.

            “Shh…it’s alright John.  It’s okay” he soothed.  John shook his head and took a step back.

            **“NO IT’S NOT!  IT’S NOT OKAY!”** he roared.  Sherlock quickly stepped forward and reached out, grabbing John by the arms before pulling him into a hug, holding him tightly.

            “Shh…it is okay.  You’re safe.  Rosie’s safe.  You’re fine” he shushed.  John whimpered as he buried his face in Sherlock’s chest.

            “We heard it Sherlock.  It was in here.  I thought it was going to get us.  I thought it was going to get Rosie” he sobbed.  Sherlock shook his head as he hugged John tighter.

            “Never.  I would never let that happen.  You would never let that happen” he growled softly before he pulled away.

            “But John…John look at me” he begged.  John sniffled and lifted his head, looking into the demon’s heterochromic eyes.

            “What?” he croaked.  Sherlock sighed.

            “I think you’ve been drugged.  We’ve _all_ been drugged” he explained.  John’s eyes widened and he tightened his grip on Rosie.

            “Drugged?” he repeated.  Sherlock nodded.

            “Yes.  Now, can you walk?” he asked.  John nodded.

            “Of course I can walk” he snapped, still traumatized.  Sherlock smiled and nodded.

            “Good.  Now come, it’s time to lay this ghost” he declared before he reached out and took Rosie from John’s arms, cradling her to his chest, murmuring comforting and soothing words.  He then began to walk forward before he stopped and looked back at John, who was just standing there, looking lost.  He smiled sadly as he walked back towards his husband and held out his hand.

            “Come John” he murmured softly.  John looked towards him and his hand before he let out a shuddering breath and reached out, taking the demon’s hand.  Sherlock smiled and laced their fingers together, giving his hand a comforting squeeze before he gently tugged him along, leading him and Rosie out of the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe! Also, a bit more angst in the chapter, sorry!


	8. H. O. U. N. D.

In small room of cages, Doctor Stapleton was examining a fluffy white rabbit on a metal table and looked up when Sherlock walked in, carrying a sleeping Rosie and holding a slightly trembling John’s hand.

            “Oh.  Back again?  What’s on your mind this time?” she asked.  Sherlock snarled, flashing fangs, making the doctor blink in surprise.

            “Murder, Doctor Stapleton.  Refined, cold-blooded murder” he snarled before he looked over at John. 

            “John?” he asked softly.  John nodded and snapped his fingers, shutting off the lights.  From the limited light streaming in from a nearby window, John, Sherlock, and Rosie could see that the rabbit on the table was glowing a bright green.  Sherlock then looked over at John, who nodded again as he snapped his fingers, turning the lights back on.  Once the lights were back on, John and Sherlock looked at Dr. Stapleton with glowing blue eyes and pitch-black eyes.

            “Will _you_ tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.  Dr. Stapleton said nothing for a moment before she sighed.

            “What do you want?” she asked.  Sherlock grinned.

            “Can I borrow your microscope?” he asked.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Later, in a larger lab, Sherlock had taken off his coat and was sitting at a bench, gazing into a microscope.  Unhappy with what he was seeing, he turned away from the microscope and crushed something like crystalline into smaller pieces with a little hammer.  As time passed, Sherlock varied between sitting with his back to the microscope, his hands folded in the prayer position in front of him while he thought, gazing into the microscope, or scribbling chemical formulae onto the desk with different colored marker pens.  Nearby, John sat on a stool with Rosie in his arms, his chin rested gently on her head as he gazed blankly into space, Dr. Stapleton standing next to him.

            “You sure you’re okay?” she asked.  John glanced up at her and raised an eyebrow.

            “You look very peaky” Dr. Stapleton explained.  John nodded once in understand before he shook his head.

            “I’m fine” he replied.  Dr. Stapleton nodded before she looked down at Rosie in John’s arms and smiled softly.

            “Want me to hold her?” she asked.  John and Sherlock’s heads whipped up at the same, John’s eyes glowing blue, and Sherlock’s eyes pitch black, like how they had been when they first talked to Dr. Stapleton.

            **“Don’t you dare touch her”** both men snarled at the same time, making Dr. Stapleton’s eyes widen before she took a step back, raising her hands in surrender.

            “Alright, alright” she assured.  John nodded then rested his chin back on Rosie’s head while Sherlock looked over at him.

            _“You alright?”_ he mouthed.  John shook his head once, so discrete that Dr. Stapleton didn’t even notice. 

            _“No, not really”_ he replied.  Sherlock’s mouth thinned and opened his mouth to say something when Dr. Stapleton beat him to the punch.

            “It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you’re interested” she stated.  John over at her while Sherlock went back to his microscope, listening in on their conversation.

            “What?” John asked as he began to stroke Rosie’s back, trying to keep her asleep, since he knew she was exhausted from all the screaming and crying.

            “In the rabbits” Dr. Stapleton explained.  John nodded slowly.

            “Mm, right, yes” he agreed.

            “Aequoria Victoria, if you really want to know” Dr. Stapleton stated proudly.  John narrowed his eyes at her.

            “Why?” he demanded.

            “Why not?  We don’t ask questions like that here.  It isn’t done” Dr. Stapleton replied.  Meanwhile, back at the bench, Sherlock was growing increasing irritated as he picked up another slide and put it under the microscope.

            “There was a mix-up, anyway.  My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go” Dr. Stapleton continued. 

            “Your compassion’s overwhelming” John replied cynically.  Dr. Stapleton smiled slightly.

            “I know.  I hate myself sometimes” she agreed sarcastically.  Back at the bench, Sherlock let out an exasperated growl as he took the last slide out again. 

            “Listen: if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere.  Of _course_ they are” Dr. Stapleton stated with a sigh while Sherlock stared intently at his latest slide before his eyes slid across to a nearby read-out on a screen.

            “And cloning?” John asked.

            “Yes, of course.  Dolly the Sheep, remember?” Dr. Stapleton replied.

            “Human cloning?” John inquired.  Dr. Stapleton shrugged.

            “Why not?” she countered.

            “What about animals?  Not sheep…big animals” John asked, shuddering at the words “big animals”.  Dr. Stapleton shook her head.

            “Size isn’t a problem, not at all.  The only limits are ethics and the law, and both those things can be…very flexible.  But not here – not at Baskerville” she explained.  Suddenly, Sherlock stood up from the bench, absolutely furious, and snatched his latest slide from the microscope, throwing it against the nearest wall.

            “It’s not there!” he shouted, so loud that he woke Rosie up from her slumber, making her cry again for the umpteenth time.

            “Sherlock!” John shouted back, making the demon look over at him as he motioned to Rosie, who was trembling and crying again.

            “Oh no” Sherlock murmured as he quickly walked around the bench and over to John and Dr. Stapleton, taking his daughter out of John’s arms and holding her close.

            “I’m sorry baby, Daddy’s sorry” he soothed, pressing a kiss to her beautiful curly blonde hair.  Rosie let out a little whine as she buried her face in Sherlock’s shoulder, making Sherlock smile sadly before he walked back to his microscope and snarled softly.

            “Nothing there!  Doesn’t make any sense” he snarled.

            “What were you expecting to find?” Dr. Stapleton replied.

            “A drug, of course.  There has to be a drug – a hallucinogenic or a deliriant of some kind.  There’s no trace of anything in the sugar” Sherlock spat, making John raise an eyebrow.

            “Sugar?” he asked.  Sherlock looked up at him and nodded.

            “The sugar, yes.  It’s a simple process of elimination.  I saw the hound – saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster.  But I knew I couldn’t believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics.  Henry Knight – he saw it too but you didn’t, John.  You didn’t see it.  Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: you don’t take sugar in your coffee” he explained.  John nodded slowly.

            “I see. So—” he started.

            “I took it from Henry’s kitchen – his sugar” Sherlock explained as he glared down at the microscope.

            “It’s perfectly all right” he spat.  John crossed his arms.

            “But maybe it’s not a drug” he offered.

            “No, it _has_ to be a drug” Sherlock argued as he sat down at the bench, closing his eyes as he rubbed Rosie’s back, silently apologizing for shouting and waking her up.

            “But how did it get into our systems. _How?_ ” he growled.

            “There has to be something—” he continued as the word “hound” continued to drift across his mind’s eyes.  He turned his head repeatedly as he tried to follow the words inside his head.

            “—something…ah, something—” he continued before his eyes flew open.

            “—something buried deep” he finished before he took a sharp breath in through his nose and turned to point imperiously at Stapleton.

            “Get out” he snarled. 

            “What?” Dr. Stapleton replied.

            “Get out.  I need to go to my mind palace” Sherlock declared.  John sighed deeply and made to stand when Sherlock shook his head.

            “Not you, John.  Just her” he stated, pointing again to Dr. Stapleton.  Dr. Stapleton looked shocked while John just calmly led her over to the lab door and opened it for her.

            “His what?” she demanded, looking at the angel.

            “Oh, his mind palace.  It’s a memory technique – a sort of mental map.  You plot a map with a location – it doesn’t have to be a real place – and then you deposit memories there that…theoretically, you can never forget anything; all you have to do is find your way back to it” John replied. 

            “So this imaginary location can be anything – a house or a street” Dr. Stapleton stated.

            “Yes” John agreed. 

            “But he said “palace.” He said it was a _palace_ ” Dr. Stapleton exclaimed.  John smiled slightly and shrugged.

            “That’s just how he is.  Now, if you’ll excuse us, Doctor” he replied before he shut the door in her face and walked back into the lab, sitting down in front of Sherlock.

            “Why am I staying behind?  You usually make me leave for these kind of things” he asked.  Sherlock smirked.

            “I need you here.  And I’m sure you’d feel a little better being here with me than out there with Dr. Stapleton, hmm?” he asked, giving his husband a knowing look.  John chuckled and shook his head, sighing.

            “Correct” he agreed before he crossed his arms.

            “Need me to take Rosie while you work?” he asked.  Sherlock shook his head.

            “No, but do come sit by me.  Your presence will be appreciated” he replied.  John nodded and quickly walked over to where Sherlock was sitting and sat next to him, leaning against the lab bench.  Sherlock then shut his eyes and began to rub Rosie’s back as he turned his mind inward as he started walk through his memories, unearthing everything he could recall in connection with the word “Liberty.”  As he worked, John crossed his arms and shut his eyes, taking deep breaths to clear his head of the traumatic experience that he went through not too long ago.  While John was doing deep breathing and calming techniques, Sherlock was accessing different examples of the word and when he found them unsuitable, he waved them away like they were flies before pulling in new variations and brushing those aside as well.  The word “hound” then crept into his mind and drifted across it as he temporarily gave up on “Liberty” and shifted to “In”, adding various letters onto the word to form new ones, such as “India”, “Ingolstadt”, and “Indium atomic number = 49”.  Meanwhile, John continued to do his deep breathing and calming exercises, however, the exercises slowly started to morph from exercises to deep slumber.  He was exhausted and all the crying and stress from being in that cage did not help.  Back in Sherlock’s mind palace, Sherlock summoned up images of large dogs, running through various breeds before being temporarily distracted by the image of Elvis Presley starting to sing the first line of “Hound Dog”.  Irritated, he brushed that aside and tried to pull in all three words – Liberty, In, Hound – simultaneously and suddenly his eyes snapped open and he let out a gasp as the words finally crashed into place:

 

Liberty,

Indiana

H.O.U.N.D.

 

 

He then looked over at John, who was softly sleeping, and gently reached out, grasping his husband’s shoulder.

            “John.  John” he whispered.  John blinked and slowly rose his head to look over at Sherlock.

            “I take it you figured it out then?” he asked softly, since he was still very sleepy.  Sherlock smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to John’s forehead and nodded.

            “Yes.  Now come, we must talk to Dr. Stapleton” he declared.  John nodded and yawned as he stood up, following after Sherlock as they walked out of the lab.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

That night, in the moors, the hound howled, making Henry race across the grass, his pistol in one hand, terrified as the hound snarled behind him.  He ran on, glancing back repeatedly as he heard his pursuer gaining on him.  Two red, glowing eyes loomed out of the darkness each time he looked around, but now he suddenly realized that he had a gun in his hand and he turned, firing towards the eyes.  Suddenly, glass shattered everywhere as Dr. Louise Mortimer screamed and threw herself out of her chair in the sitting room of Henry’s house, cowering in fear on the floor.  Just beside her chair, the mirror on the wall had shattered under the impact of the bullet that Henry had just fired into it.  Sobbing and cowering, she looked up at Henry as he continued to aim at the mirror, his face blank, but soon he came back to himself, looking at the pistol in horror.

            “Oh my God” he whispered as Dr. Mortimer counted to sob.

            “Oh my God.  Oh my God. I am so…I am so sorry.  I am so sorry” he apologized before he ran out of the room.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Back at Baskerville, Dr. Stapleton led Sherlock and John along a corridor and used her card to swipe them into a large room which had Major Barrymore’s office in the corner.  As they walked into the room, Mycroft and Lestrade looked up at them.

            “Ah, come to join the party?” Lestrade asked.  Sherlock huffed and John smirked while Dr. Stapleton just looked rather confused.

            “I’m sorry, who are you two?” she demanded.  Mycroft looked over at her, eyeing her up and down before he smiled slightly.

            “Mycroft Holmes.  And this is my husband, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade” he replied, motioning to Lestrade, who dipped his head in greeting.  Dr. Stapleton then shook her head.

            “But how did you get in here?  No one has access to these rooms except for those that work here!” she exclaimed.  Mycroft held up his access pass.

            “I have my own” he replied calmly.  Dr. Stapleton shook her head.

            “But how?!” she exclaimed.  Mycroft sighed deeply.

            “Dr. Stapleton, I occupy a minor position in the British Government.  I have access to many things, like this room and to Baskerville itself” he replied before he looked over at Sherlock and John.

            “What can we help you with?” he asked. 

            “Project HOUND.  Must have read about it and stored it away.  An experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana” Sherlock replied.  Mycroft nodded and quickly turned to Major Barrymore’s computer, easily hacking into the system before looking back at Sherlock.

            “H.  O.  U.  N.  D” the younger demon replied.  Mycroft nodded and typed the letters into the “String Search” before pressing “Enter”.  Everyone in the room had to wait a moment before Lestrade motioned for them to come around the desk so that they could look at the screen along with them.  Once everyone was behind them, there was a slight pause before information began to stream across the screen as everything related to Project H.O.U.N.D. became available.  Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lestrade’s concentration became intense as they took it all in, focusing on certain phrases like “extreme suggestibility,” “fear and stimulus,” “conditioned terror,” “aerosol dispersal.”  A photograph soon came up of the project team posing happily together and Sherlock immediately identified the five project leaders amongst the larger group: Elaine Dyson, Mary Uslowski, Rick Nader, Jack O’Mara and Leonard Hansen.

            “May I borrow the computer for a moment, brother?” he asked, looking down at Mycroft.  Mycroft glanced up at him and nodded, removing himself from the chair so that Sherlock could sit down, taking Rosie in the process.  Sherlock then cleared the photo from the screen and rearranged the names into another order:

 

Leonard **H** ansen

Jack **O** ‘Mara

Mary **U** slowski

Rick **N** ader

Elaine **D** yson

 

Standing behind them, Dr. Stapleton slowly began to understand.

            “HOUND” she breathed.  Soon, the five of them began to stare in growing horror as more information from the project appeared.  Words and phrases were also highlighted such as “Paranoia,” “Severe frontal lobe damage,” “Blood-brain,” “Gross cranial trauma,” “Dangerous acceleration,” “Multiple homicide,” accompanied by photographs of some of the subjects of the project screaming insanely.

            “Jesus” Lestrade breathed.

            “Project HOUND: a new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus; but they shut it down and hid it away in 1986” Sherlock stated, still scanning the screen as it flowed across the screen.

            “Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on” Lestrade murmured.

            “And what they did to others.  Prolonged exposure drove them insane – made them almost uncontrollably aggressive” Sherlock continued.

            “So someone’s been doing it again – carrying on the experiments?” John asked.

            “Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty years” Lestrade mused.

            “Who?” Dr. Stapleton asked.  John nodded at the screen, indicating the names of the project leaders.

            “Those names mean anything to you?” he asked.  Dr. Stapleton shook her head.

            “No, not a thing” she replied.

            “Five principal scientists, twenty years ago” Sherlock murmured, sighed.  He then pulled up the photograph of the team and began zooming in on individuals within it.  As he looked at the zoomed in version, he noticed that that they are all wearing identical sweatshirts.  Looming out of a diamond pattern in the center of the sweatshirts was a large snarling wolf’s head and the legend “H.O.U.N.D.” was printed underneath.  There was some smaller text underneath but Sherlock couldn’t quite make it out, so he just decided to zoom in and out of the photo to look more closely at the faces.

            “Maybe our friend’s somewhere in the back of the picture – someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986…” he mused before stopping, recognizing a face.  He then rolled his eyes a little because he realized the truth.

            “Maybe somebody who says _“cell phone”_ because of time spent in America.  You remember, John?” he asked, looking over at his husband.  John nodded.

            “Mmhm” he replied, flashing back to Doctor Frankland giving a card to him and saying, _“Here’s my, er, cell number.”_

“He gave us his number in case we needed him” Sherlock mused.

            “Oh my God.  Bob Frankland.  But Bob doesn’t even work on…I mean, he’s a virologist. This was _chemical_ warfare” Dr. Stapleton exclaimed.  Sherlock smirked.

            “It’s where he started, though…and he’s never lost the certainty, the obsession that that drug really could work.  Nice of him to give us his number” he murmured as he looked over at John, who reached into his pocket and pulled out the man’s card, handing it over to the younger demon.

            “Let’s arrange a little meeting” he declared as he stood up and walked away from the computer, Mycroft and Lestrade following after him.  While they were walking away, John walked over to the computer and looked at the last image – a very tight close-up of one of the sweatshirts. Stitched below the “H.O.U.N.D.” legend was the name of the American town and state where the project was based: “Liberty, In”.  Just then, his phone began to ring, so he reached into his pocket and pulled it out, answering it.

            “Hello?” he answered.  There was no reply, just the sound of a woman sobbing.

            “Who’s this?” he asked, frowning and making the others stop and look at him.

            _“_ _You’ve got to find Henry”_ Dr. Mortimer sobbed.  John’s eyes widened and he looked over at the others, who were raising their eyebrows at him.

            “It’s Louise Mortimer” he replied before he turned back to the phone.

            “Dr. Mortimer, what’s wrong?” he demanded.

 _“Henry was…was remembering; then…he tried…”_ Dr. Mortimer started before she gasped.

            _“He’s got a gun.  He went for the gun and tried to…”_ she continued.

            “What?” John exclaimed as Dr. Mortimer broke down again.

            _“He’s gone.  You’ve got to stop him.  I don’t know what he might do”_ she sobbed.

            “Where are you?” John demanded.

            _“His house. I’m okay, I’m okay”_ Dr. Mortimer assured.

            “Right: stay there.  We’ll get someone to you, okay?” John stated before he hung up and looked over at Mycroft, Sherlock, and Lestrade.

            “Henry?” Mycroft asked.

            “He’s attacked her” John replied.

            “Gone?” Sherlock asked.  John nodded.

            “Mhm” he replied.  Sherlock hummed.

            “There’s only one place he’ll go to: back to where it all started” he stated before he looked over at Mycroft and Lestrade.

            “We must go to Dewer’s Hollow.  Have you got your guns on you?” he asked.  Lestrade pulled aside his shirt to reveal his gun and Mycroft held up his umbrella.  Sherlock nodded and turned, walking out of the room, Mycroft, Lestrade, and John following after him.  Dr. Stapleton remained behind, knowing that this was not a fight for her.  As they were heading down the hallway, Mycroft, with Rosie in his arms, quickly walked forward, keeping up with Sherlock.

            “Brother dear, a word” he whispered as he held Rosie’s head to his shoulder so that she would be jostled by how fast he was walking.  Sherlock looked over at him and narrowed his eyes.

            “We don’t exactly have time for this right now, Mycroft” he murmured.

            “It will only be a moment.  We can walk and talk” Mycroft replied.  Sherlock nodded and the two brothers kept up their pace, actually pulling away from John and Lestrade.

            “What did you wish to speak to me about?” Sherlock asked.  Mycroft gave him a look.

            “Was that experiment with John absolutely necessary?” he hissed.  Sherlock paused for a moment before he kept walking.

            “I had to know.  I had to” he replied.  Mycroft shook his head.

            “But with Rosie?” he snapped.  Sherlock sighed.

            “I knew it was a bad idea, but I had to make sure” he replied.  Mycroft shook his head.

            “That is bullshit, Sherlock and you damn well know it.  Why didn’t you take her before you sent John off?” he demanded.  Sherlock shook his head.

            “That major wouldn’t have taken us seriously if we have a toddler with us” he replied.

            “So you just left her with her father to be subjected to that ridiculous experiment?!” Mycroft exclaimed softly so that John and Lestrade wouldn’t hear what they were speaking about.

            “I know it was wrong Mycroft.  Don’t you think I know that?” Sherlock snapped.  Mycroft scoffed.

            “I hope you do because if not, I would have to smack you so hard I might damage that marvelous brain of yours” he hissed.  Sherlock sighed.

            “I will let John know later on, but right now, we must focus on finding Henry” he urged.

            “You best speak to him or you might be sleeping in the doghouse for the next year” Mycroft teased.  Sherlock sighed and shook his head.

            “Not now, Mycroft” he grumbled.  Mycroft nodded.

            “Of course.  To battle” he murmured.  Sherlock nodded as well as they quickly headed over to the lift that led to the surface, John and Lestrade behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story. Sorry it took so long to update, I was a little busy. Also, I had Mycroft address Sherlock's little experiment with him at the end, just so that people know that Mycroft knew what Sherlock did. And yes, even Sherlock knew what he did was wrong. And yes, I will address it later on in the story, but we'll get there when we get there.
> 
> Anyways, please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


	9. Facing the Hound

With the pistol still in his hand, Henry was walking briskly across the moors towards the woods surrounding Dewer’s Hollow.  Somewhere behind, Mycroft, Lestrade, Sherlock, and John were racing across the terrain in the Land Rover, with Mycroft at the wheel.  Rosie was in the back with John because Mycroft couldn’t drive with a baby in his arms and Lestrade definitely wasn’t going to hold her in the front seat, just in case something bad happened to them, so she was tucked safely in John’s arms in the backseat.  Unaware of this, Henry continued onward, stopping momentarily to stare tearfully at the woods ahead of him, before continuing onward again.  Not long afterwards, Mycroft pulled up to where the woods began and turned off the car, getting out and continuing on foot, the other three following behind.  Soon Henry reached the lip of the Hollow and began to make his way down into the misty valley.  Once he reached the bottom, he slowed down and stumbled slowly forward, wandering around vaguely for a moment before coming to a halt.

            “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dad” he whispered as he squatted down and brought the pistol up, opening his mouth as he aimed the muzzle towards it.

            “No, Henry, no!  No!” Sherlock shouted as he, John, Mycroft, and Lestrade scrambled down the slope, Sherlock, Mycroft, and Lestrade’s torches shining on him while John held up a ball of fire in his palm.  Henry quickly stood up and stumbled backwards, waving the pistol vaguely in their direction.

            “Get back.  Get – get away from me!” he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and hysteric.

            “Easy, Henry.  Easy.  Just relax” John soothed as he clutched Rosie, who was now away and no longer terrified, to his chest.

            “I know what I am.  I know what I tried to do!” Henry shouted.

            “Just put the gun down.  It’s okay” Mycroft soothed.

            “No, no, I know what I am!” Henry exclaimed, his voice hoarse with anguish.  Sherlock nodded slowly.

            “Yes, I’m sure you do, Henry.  It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained _very_ carefully” he reassured.  Henry looked at him blankly.

            “What?” he asked.

            “Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you’d both clung on to, because you had started to remember” Sherlock explained as he slowly began to step closer to the young man.

            “Remember now, Henry.  You’ve _got_ to remember what happened here when you were a little boy” he urged.  Henry’s gun hand began to droop momentarily but then he raised it again, his face full of his struggle to understand.

            “I thought it had got my dad – the hound.  I thought—” he started before he lost it and screamed in anguish.

            “Oh Je... oh Jesus, I don’t – _I don’t know any more!_ ” he screamed as he bent forward and aimed the muzzle into his mouth again.

            “No, Henry!  Henry, for God’s sake!” John shouted.

            “Henry, remember. “Liberty In.”  Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago” Sherlock stated urgently.  Henry began to calm a little but still remained hunched over with the gun’s muzzle against his mouth.

            “You’d started to piece things together, remember what _really_ happened here that night.  It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry?” Sherlock asked softly.  Henry started to straighten up, blinking.

            “Not a monster” Sherlock stated.  Henry turned to look at him.

            “A _man_ ” he urged.  Henry’s eyes widened as the memories began to come.  In brief flashes, he started to relive the truth.  As he had always remembered, his father was scrabbling at the ground trying to get away from his attacker, but now for the first time Henry could see that what was pulling him backwards across the earth was not a creature but a man wearing a dark leather old-fashioned gas mask.  The glass of the two large eye pieces was tinted a dark red and in the limited light available, the eye pieces seemed to be glowing.  Young Henry watched from partway up the slope, cringing and terrified as the attacker pummeled at his father, half strangling him and then punching wildly at his face.  Mr. Knight managed to pull himself from under his assailant and started to crawl away but the other man, growling fiercely, tugged him backwards and Henry’s father lost his balance, falling forward.  His head struck a rock and he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.  Breathing heavily through the gas mask, the other man poked at him, realized that he wasn’t going to move again and stood to his feet.  He looked down at the man he had just killed and young Henry saw the sweatshirt he was wearing, with its picture of a snarling wolf-like creature, the letters “H.O.U.N.D.” underneath and “Liberty, In” below them.  Young Henry’s mind began to mix everything up and, some hours later when he met the old lady walking her dog, his new horror was complete and he screamed in utter terror.  Back in the present, he gaped at Sherlock as the truth reasserted itself in his mind.

            “You couldn’t cope.  You were just a child, so you rationalized it into something very different.  But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said” Sherlock explained. 

            “Okay, it’s okay, mate” Lestrade soothed as he slowly walked forward and carefully took the pistol from Henry’s fingers.

            “But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s...we, we, we _did_ , we saw…” Henry started, looking tearily at Sherlock.

            “Yeah, but there _was_ a dog, Henry; leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog.  We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it.  Fear and stimulus; that’s how it works” Sherlock explained calmly.  Henry stared at him in confusion, making the demon return his look sympathetically.

            “But there never was any monster” he soothed.  However, the hound had different ideas and soon its anguished howls echoed throughout the woods.  Everyone’s head snapped up and Mycroft and Greg aimed their flashlights upwards to the top of the Hollow where a low shape could be seen slowly stalking along the rim, snarling.

            “Sherlock—” John called out, taking a scared step back, clutching at Rosie, who now had her face buried in his shoulder.  Sherlock stared up in disbelief as Henry turned to him, horrified.

            “No.  No, no, no, no!” he wailed in panic as he began to back away.  Sherlock held out a calming hand towards him while trying to keep his own torch shining up towards the creature above them.

            “Henry, Henry…” he started.

            “Sherlock…” John called out again as the creature continued to slink along the rim of the Hollow while Henry began to scream in abject terror.

            “NO!” he screamed, making John’s head quickly whip towards him.

            “Henry!” he exclaimed.  The hound turned towards the Hollow and looked down at everyone, snarling viciously as its eyes glowed in the torchlight.

            “What the fuck?” Lestrade whispered.  John then looked over at Mycroft and Lestrade, frowning.

            “Are you two seeing this?” he demanded.  Mycroft and Lestrade looked back at him, their faces answering his question.  Sherlock then turned to look at his brother and the inspector before he turned back to look up at the hound.  John then shook his head before he looked over at Sherlock.

            “Right: they’re not drugged, Sherlock, so what’s that? _What is it?!_ ” he exclaimed.  As Henry continued to wail behind them, Sherlock screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to handle the overload in his mind before he looked upwards again.

            “All right! It’s still here…but it’s just a dog.  Henry!  It’s nothing more than an ordinary dog!” he exclaimed.  The hound didn’t particularly like that statement so it raised its head and let out a long terrifying howl.

            “My God” Mycroft breathed, reaching out and grabbing Lestrade’s arm as the hound turned and leapt a short way down the slope, its eyes flashing red in the torchlight.

            “Bloody hell” Lestrade swore.  The four men, plus a now terrified once more Rosie, stared at it as it stopped again, its red glowing eyes now clearly visible as it opened its mouth, revealing a mouthful of long pointed teeth that you would never see on any dog.  Its snarl was completely terrifying.  Henry had fallen silent, gazing up at it as if he knows that it was going to kill him shortly.  Sherlock was still trying to believe what his own eyes were telling him when he noticed movement from behind.  He looked over his shoulder and saw a tall human figure through the mist.  The new arrival was wearing a breathing mask with a clear visor over his face.  Sherlock snarled and rushed towards him, grabbing at the mask and ripping it upwards to fully reveal the man’s face, Death grinning maniacally back at him.

            “No!” he exclaimed in appalled horror.  Behind him, the hound growled ominously again, this time making Rosie let out a cry.  Death’s expression soon became intense and murderous but then his head began to distort and flail about, morphing between his face and someone else’s so quickly that it was impossible to keep up with the changes.  Sherlock grimaced, groaning at the insanity going on in front of him while Death’s face kept reasserting itself.

            “It’s not you! You’re not here!  John killed you” he cried frantically before he grabbed at the figure and spun him, headbutting him in the face. The figure crumpled slightly and raised his hand to his face as he straightened up, revealing himself to be Bob Frankland.  Sherlock clung to his jacket, his breathing panicked and frantic, before he turned his head to the side and looked at the mist surrounding them.  Frankland still had his hand clamped over his mouth and nose, and suddenly it all began to make sense to Sherlock.

            “The fog” he breathed.  John then looked over at him and frowned.

            “What?” he exclaimed.

            “It’s the fog!  The drug: it’s in the fog!  Aerosol dispersal – that’s what it said in those records.  Project HOUND – it’s the fog!  A chemical minefield!” Sherlock shouted back.  Mycroft and Lestrade quickly covered their mouths with their arms, trying to stop themselves from breathing too much of the mist while John snuffed out the ball of fire and reached up, cupping the back of Rosie’s head before he pressed her face down in his shoulder to keep her from breathing in the mist.  He would be fine…he hoped.  Just then, the hound stalked closer to the group, still snarling.

            “For God’s sake, kill it!  Kill it!” Dr. Frankland exclaimed as the hound’s movements became more jittery as it wound itself up to attack.  Lestrade aimed his pistol and fired three times at the hound, but his bullets flew past it, making the hound flinch momentarily before it rose up and leapt towards them.  Thankfully, since Mycroft had had MI6 training, his aim was a bit truer than his husbands.  He opened his umbrella and pointed it at the dog, the inside of his umbrella revealing a ballistic screen.  He then pressed a button on the handle of the umbrella, firing once, hitting the hound accurately, throwing it backwards.  The creature squealed in pain as it crashed to the ground, unmoving.  John, Mycroft, and Lestrade watched it anxiously for any signs of moment while Sherlock ran over to Henry and began pushing him towards the hound.

            “Look at it, Henry” he ordered.  Henry shook his head and dug in his heels, not wanting to look.

            “No, no, no!” he exclaimed. 

            “Come on, look at it!” Sherlock ordered, shoving him forward determinedly.  He then bullied the young man forward until they could both clearly see it lying on the ground.  In John’s firelight it was evidently nothing more than a huge dog.  Henry stared at it for a moment and then turned back to where Frankland was still holding his injured face while Greg and Mycroft had their hands over their mouths as they tried to draw breath and come to terms with what they just experienced.  Henry then looked at Dr. Frankland.

            “It’s just…you bastard” he growled before he hurled himself at the old man, screaming in rage.

            “You _bastard!_ ” he roared as he bundled him to the ground, screaming in his face while Mycroft and Lestrade ran over to try and pull him off.  Meanwhile, John walked over to stand by Sherlock, leaning against him.  Sherlock smiled slightly and wrapped an arm around the angel as they watched Henry rage on Dr. Frankland.

            “Twenty years!  Twenty years of my life making no sense!  Why didn’t you just kill me?!” he screamed before Mycroft and Lestrade finally pulled him off the man.

            “Because dead men get listened to.  He needed to do more than kill you.  He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here” Sherlock explained.  He then removed his arm from around John and held his arms out wide, spinning around and motioning to the Hollow.

            “Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once” he declared before he laughed with delight.

            “Oh, this case, Henry!  Thank you.  It’s been brilliant” he praised.  John looked over at him and glared.

            “Sherlock” he hissed.  The demon looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

            “What?” he asked.  John rolled his eyes before he gave him a pointed look.

            _“Timing”_ he growled.  Sherlock blinked.

            “Not good?” he asked softly.

            “No, no, it’s – it’s okay. It’s fine, because this means…” Henry started as he stepped toward Dr. Frankland.  Mycroft and Lestrade stepped forward, ready to intervene if he should try to attack the man again.

            “... this means that my dad was _right_ ” Henry finished.  Dr. Frankland got up onto his knees as Henry still tried to move towards him.  Mycroft and Greg both put a gentle hand onto his shoulders to keep him back while John and Sherlock stood a little away, watching.

            “He found something out, didn’t he, and that’s why you’d killed him – because he was right, and he’d found you right in the middle of an experiment” Henry stated tearily.  Frankland stood to his feet but before he could say anything, there was a savage snarl from behind the group.  Everybody spun towards the dog as it whined in pain before getting up off the ground.  John growled and reached out, grabbing Lestrade’s gun before firing twice at the dog, sending it to the ground again.  Frankland took the opportunity of the distraction to turn and run off in the opposite direction.  Like the single-minded idiot that he was, Sherlock ran right across John’s line of fire, forcing him to lower his pistol, and chased off after the scientist.  John groaned and handed Lestrade back his gun before he tightened his hold on Rosie and raced after the younger demon up the slope, Mycroft and Lestrade following behind.

            “Frankland!” Sherlock shouted.  Frankland ran through the woods with Sherlock and John in hot pursuit, Lestrade, Mycroft, and Henry a little behind the other two.

            “Frankland!” Sherlock shouted again. 

            “Come on, keep up!” Lestrade ordered to Henry as he and Mycroft continued to sprint after John and Sherlock.

            “It’s no use, Frankland!” Sherlock shouted.  Reaching the barbed wire fence surrounding the minefield, Dr. Frankland didn’t even hesitate as he jumped over.  However, his feet got tangled in the wire and he fell to the ground on the other side, flat on his face.  He quickly shook his head and untangled himself before he jumped up and ran on a few yards before stopping abruptly when his foot thumped down onto a mine, which made a distinctive “clink”, indicating that he had activated his pressure pad.  He stared down at his foot, shining his torch onto the mine underneath, realizing that unless he remained completely still and didn’t lift any pressure off it, the mine would blow.  As the others hurried towards the barbed wire, he raised his head, sighed in resignation, and deliberately lifted his foot.  The others quickly skidded to a halt and ducked down as a massive explosion ripped into the air.  John looked at the explosion in shock before he shut his eyes and turned away, unfurling his wings from his back, wrapping them around himself and Rosie, making sure that she wouldn’t be able to see anything.  Sherlock then looked over at him and sighed before he walked over to him and wrapped his arms around him, unfurling his wings as well, wrapping it around himself and John, holding his husband close.  Mycroft did the same for Lestrade, pulling him close before unfurling his wings from his back, wrapping them around himself and the kitsune, shielding him from the explosion.  He knew that his husband saw death on a regular basis, but for once, he didn’t want him to see this death.  Meanwhile, Henry just sunk back against a nearby tree, full of shock and exhaustion.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

The next day, after a night of much needed sleep, John was sitting at one of the outdoor tables, sipping a cup of tea while Rosie was sitting next to him, sipping on some milk.  Mycroft and Lestrade had decided to catch a train home because they were both very much so ready to get the hell out of there.  Billy then brought out a plate containing whatever was the vegetarian equivalent of a full English breakfast and put it on the table in front of John before placing a bowl of oatmeal before Rosie.

            “Thanks Billy” John thanked.  As Billy walked away, Sherlock walked over, carrying a cup of coffee.

            “So they didn’t have it put down, then – the dog” he mused.

            “Obviously.  Suppose they just couldn’t bring themselves to do it” John replied as he began to tuck into his breakfast.  He would pause every now and then to help Rosie with her food before going back to eating his own breakfast. 

            “I see” Sherlock murmured as he walked over to where Rosie was sitting and sat down next to her, cleaning up her face with a napkin.  John chuckled and shook his head as he looked up at the demon.

            “No you don’t” he stated.  Sherlock shook his head as well.

            “No, I don’t.  Sentiment?” he asked.  John nodded.

            “Sentiment” he agreed.  Sherlock rolled his eyes.

            “Oh” he grumbled.  John shook his head before he frowned and looked up at Sherlock.

            “What happened to Rosie and I in the lab?” he demanded.  Sherlock was quiet for a moment, looking worried about how he was ever going to explain all this.

            “I mean, Rosie and I have never been to the Hollow, so how come we heard those things in there?  Fear and stimulus, you said” John continued.

            “You two must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe.  You saw those pipes – pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve; and they were carrying the gas, so…” Sherlock started.  John shook his head.

            “Hang on: you thought it was in the sugar” he stated.  Sherlock stared at him while trying to maintain a neutral expression.

            “You were _convinced_ it was in the sugar” John exclaimed.  Sherlock looked away before he looked down at his watch.

            “Better get going, actually.  There’s a train that leaves in half an hour, so if you want—” he started while John looked away, beginning to realize the horrible truth.

            “Oh God.  It was you. _You_ locked us in that bloody lab” he exclaimed, turning back to glare at the demon.

            “I _had_ to.  It was an experiment” Sherlock explained. 

            “An experiment?!” John shouted furiously.  Rosie looked up at him, tilting her head in confusion while Sherlock shot him a look.

            “Shh” he shushed.  John blinked before he shook his head.

            “I was terrified, Sherlock.  I was scared to death.  **Rosie** was scared to death.  Did you hear her screaming?” he hissed.  Sherlock said nothing as he turned and looked away, a haunted look entering his face.  John frowned; he had never seen Sherlock look like that before.

            “Yes” Sherlock replied hoarsely.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

_Back in the lab, Sherlock was sitting alone in a room from where he could monitor the lab._ _He watched as John, clutching a screaming and crying Rosie, raced across_ _the darkened lab towards the cages as the “hound” growled.  There were tears streaming down his face as he listened to his daughter scream and cry from inside the cage, with John shushing and soothing her every so often._

_“_ _It’s in here with us” John whispered into his phone._

_“All right.  Keep talking.  I’ll find you” Sherlock assured, trying to keep the tears out of his voice.  There was a momentary silence and Sherlock’s eyes widened._

_“John?  John, keep talking” he ordered._

_“Sherlock, I can’t.  It’ll hear us and I’m afraid with Rosie crying, it’ll find us” John whispered back._

_“Tell me what you’re seeing” Sherlock ordered._

_“There is no way in hell that I am getting close enough to look out Sherlock.  Not with Rosie” John snapped back.  Sherlock bit his lip, really not wanting to have to do this, but he had to be sure of his experiment so he switched on a small recorder and held it up to a nearby microphone as savage growling played into the lab.  He listened to Rosie let out another terrified scream, tears of pain streaming down his face.  He hated what he was doing, he knew he was going to regret it later, but he had to be right.  He had to._

~*~*~*~*~

 

After he explained what he did, tears were now streaming down his face.  John looked at him, shocked, while Rosie turned towards him and when she saw the tears, she reached out and gently patted his arm, making him look down at her.

            “No cry Daddy.  No cry” she begged.  Sherlock let out a choked laugh as he placed down his coffee mug and scooped her into his arms, holding her tightly as he pressed a gentle kiss to her blonde curls. 

            “So it wasn’t in the sugar then?” John asked, once he got his voice back from being stunned into silence by Sherlock’s story.

            “No, well, I wasn’t to know you’d already been exposed to the gas” Sherlock replied, his voice thick.

            “So you got it wrong” John stated.  Sherlock shook his head as Rosie snuggled herself into his embrace.

            “No” he replied.  John smiled slightly.

            “Mm.  You were wrong.  It wasn’t in the sugar.  You got it _wrong_ ” he declared.  Sherlock shot him a look before he sighed.

            “A bit.  It won’t happen again” he growled softly.  John hummed before he crossed his arms.

            “Any long-term effects?” he asked.  Sherlock shook his head.

            “None at all. You’ll be fine once you’ve excreted it. We all will” he assured.

            “Think I might have taken care of that already.  Rosie too” John replied with a smile.  Sherlock smiled as well before he looked over at the angel, his eyes serious.

            “John, I’m so sorry.  I never should have done that to you or Rosie” he murmured.  John scoffed.

            “You think?” he grumbled.  Sherlock sighed deeply before he looked at John.

            “Do you wish to get a divorce?” he asked.  John’s eyes widened in shock.

            “A divorce?!  Where the hell is this coming from?” he exclaimed.  Sherlock motioned to him and then to Rosie.

            “I am always putting you two in danger!  Wouldn’t you rather live a normal life where you don’t have to worry that your daughter is going to die every two bloody minutes?!” he shouted.  John rolled his eyes.

            “Did you forget where I came from?  I went to war, Sherlock.  My life has always been in danger.  I can’t seem to escape it.  And while I would like for Rosie to have a normal childhood, she has us for her parents, a DI and literally the British government for uncles!  She will never have a normal childhood.  She is never not in danger” he exclaimed back.  Sherlock shook his head.

            “But—” he started when John held up a hand.

            “Shut up, you git.  No, I don’t want a divorce.  I just wish you could let me know when you’re planning on doing experiments.  Or if you wish to test them on me alone, then take Rosie or hand her off to Mycroft or Greg.  I don’t want her to go through that again, Sherlock.  Please?  At least until she’s older, when she can finally start using her powers to protect herself and she can finally understand what is going on” he explained.  Sherlock nodded slowly.

            “Alright” he agreed before he looked down at Rosie.

            “Sorry for scaring you, darling” he murmured.  Rosie smiled slightly and just snuggled into Sherlock’s embrace.  John chuckled at Sherlock’s surprised expression, shaking his head.

            “It seems she’s forgiven you” he murmured.  Sherlock then looked up at him, heterochromic eyes full of confusion.

            “But why?  I traumatized her” he exclaimed.  John shrugged.

            “She loves you.  And I may have wiped her memory of the entire incident so…” he trailed off, making Sherlock look at him with wide eyes before smirking.

            “I thought you said that you didn’t want to keep wiping her memories” he teased.  John gave him a look.

            “Not of things that will help her grow.  Traumatic experiences like this, getting grazed by a bullet, getting kidnapped and nearly impaled by a giant arrow, and almost being drowned in a pool?  Those memories get erased.  And when the time comes, we can always tell her what happened, if she ever wishes to learn about those instances” he explained.  Sherlock nodded slowly before he looked into John’s blue eyes.

            “Can you forgive me?” he asked softly.  John hummed, thinking for a moment.

            “Well, I am still a little cross with you that you decided to scare the shit out of us with the fake dog growls—” he started before he leaned over and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.

            “—of course I forgive you.  Just don’t do anything like that again” he growled, giving Sherlock a look.  Sherlock smirked.

            “No promises” he teased.  John’s eyes began to glow and he growled softly.

            “Sherlock” he growled.  Sherlock chuckled and shook his head.

            “Alright, alright.  Nothing like that again.  But I can’t promise that Rosie won’t be in danger.  Or you.  Or I” he stated.  John shrugged his shoulders.

            “As long as I know that you’ll be by our side when we’re facing those dangers, then I’ll be alright” he replied.  Sherlock smiled.

            “Now that I can promise” he promised as he reached out and took John’s hand, giving a quick squeeze.  John smiled in return before he pulled his hand away and went back to eating breakfast, offering Sherlock a few forkfuls every now and then.  Sherlock then helped Rosie finish her oatmeal, cleaning up her face every so often when she spilled or made a mess, not even minding that some of the oatmeal would fall onto his scarf or even nice dress shirt.  After they had finished with their breakfast, Sherlock handed Rosie over to John as he took the dishes back to the inn and once he came back, he offered out a hand to John, which the angel took, and once they were both standing, John placed Rosie on the ground and held onto one of her hands while Sherlock held the other, the three of them deciding to take a walk and just enjoy themselves before they had to go back to the rigors of London life.  As they walked around the area, John looked over at Sherlock and smiled fondly, grinning wider when the demon returned the smile.  They then looked down at Rosie, who was giggling and laughing as the wind blew through her hair, and smiled.  No matter what dangers came their way, they would face things head on together.  As a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the end. And yes, I addressed the whole Sherlock scaring John and Rosie thing . I worked long and hard on this chapter so please be nice in the comments about it. Hope you guys enjoyed this story and please don't be afraid to check out my other stories! Please continue to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!
> 
> Also, Mycroft's umbrella is like the one used in Kingsman. Just thought I'd let y'all know that.

**Author's Note:**

> Third story of the Living with a Demon series! Hope you guys enjoy this story and please don't be afraid to leave comments, kudos, bookmark, and subscribe!


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